Kender Goddess: The Chaotic Dream
by Kender Bard
Summary: The stunning conclusion to the Kender Goddess trilogy! With years past since the creation of the pseudo-dragons, Tas and Dreamflight thought Takhisis and Chaos had been placated. Now they, and their family, are finding out otherwise.
1. Scattered

Kender Goddess: The Chaotic Dream

Fifteen years later

Nobody could remember the cold setting in so fast, or lingering so long, depending on how you looked at it. The kids had enjoyed the prolonged snow and where playing in the cool sunshine. Tas and Dreamflight talked softly in their bedroom as they packed for the next, perhaps last, trip as a family.

"I miss the summer warmth," Dreamflight sighed, pressing down some trinkets in an overstuffed pouch. "I think my shiver muscles are exhausted."

"Maybe it's just our age," Tas teased, eyes twinkling brightly as he tried to put one more pair of leggings in his clothing sack. "The kids seem to enjoy it." Dreamflight sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing out her skirt and kicking her legs back and forth against the bed frame.

"I caught Crentha singing a warming song to herself," Dreamflight countered with a sly smile. "I hope it's warmer in the Vale." Tas assured her it would be and the two paused their tasks to gaze out of a window to see their children.

Firespice, twirling his own hoopak (a present on his last Life Day), was casually poking and prodding his two younger siblings as they stumbled around the vast yard of the valley that was tucked nicely behind the small, but quaint wooden house that Tas had persuaded some friends to build with him. The house was snugly fit between two sides of rocky hills and led down to a lush valley.

They were playing Treasure Hunt, consisting of a map master, blind folds, and a hidden treasure (in this case, it was a broken vase that the children thought their parents didn't yet know about. As they intended to hide it anyway, they figured it might as well be used in their game.). All the participants were blindfolded, save for the map master, who guided the adventurers to their destination by verbal uses. The treasure was always buried in the "ice cave". If you were getting warmer, then you were going the wrong way. However, sometimes they cheated and put the treasure the opposite way. It made the game more fun that way.

"Crentha, you're feeling a bit chilly," Firespice announced, poking his sister's shoulder with a prong. Next, he rounded to harass hi brother. "Loki, your feet are on coals!" Loki ignored his brother, suspecting a ruse, and resolutely strode forward. Crentha had paused and lifted up her blindfold to watch.

"Heat is searing off your topknot," Firespice warned with a bop to Loki's head. Loki lashed out for Firespice clumsily, and missed by far. Sighing, he kept walking until Firespice tripped him.

"You fell into the volcano!" he taunted, giggling in glee. Loki took his blindfold off and grinned at his older brother. The two, always picking on each other, rarely held ill feelings about it. Loki rose up slowly, his arms outstretched before him and taking staggering steps towards Firespice.

"I am the undead knight of the volcano," he droned. "I will suck the blood from your bones!" Crentha, who wasn't as fond of the monster games as she was the treasure hunt, folded her hands and wings, sitting on the ground to watch. Firespice and Loki fell to the ground, wrestling and laughing. Their laughter carried up from the valley and filled the small house with its presence. Smiling, the two parents resumed packing for their trip.

Two days later, the Burrfoot family was on the move.

"Where are we going?" asked Firespice, taking the lead of his siblings. Already he was looking for fresh parchment and a quill in the recesses of his pouches.

"The Vale," Tas replied. Sulkingly, Firespice put his trade tools away. This was no new trip, and while he did enjoy visiting the Vale (which always wound up with a trip to Solace to see the friends of their parents) he was disappointed that they weren't going anywhere exciting. He was nearing his wanderlust age, and was beginning to get restless, and so Tasslehoff and Dreamflight had planned to take another family trip in case he decided to leave someday soon.

Dreamflight smiled at the hidden agitation in her son's voice, and gazed back fondly on the trio of children.

Firespice, the blue and gold eyed firstborn, was fifteen years old already. He'd fallen in love with the 'family business' and was learning the fine art of mapmaking from his father. Filled with the need to travel, he took well to all that Tas had taught him, which included a broad range of camping and survival tricks, as well as the older kender knowledge of how to pick locks and find hidden crevices. Of course all three of the children knew that much at least, and had been firmly raised in the mentality that deep down, all people were good and wouldn't mind showing off their prized possessions. And even though he didn't show it much, Firespice had a fine singing voice, and kept his mother's gift whistle close to his heart. To her regret, Firespice only sang if his brother and sister urged him to do so, and the three only came together in song if it were necessary, or proper.

Sighing softly and spreading her wings to the pale sun, Crentha hummed under her breath. The only daughter of the family was always humming, singing, or some other form of vocal music, as she had music within her blood. Even her voice had the melodious lilt of a soft flute. She confesses that she always heard music in her head, and this was the source of her abilities. Rather than being worried, Dreamflight was very pleased of this news, although she never divulged why. She tried to urge her daughter into taking the path of the bard, but Crentha surprisingly declined. She professed that she would rather be a cleric, though of whom, she was not yet sure. After this declaration, her Uncle Bacher had given her a blank platinum medallion (he was sketchy on the details as to where he had gotten it) to wear until she made a choice, and she wore it as proudly and boldly as if she had already been inducted into some prestigious order. At only thirteen years of age, she was still too young to worry about such details, but Tas foresaw early that she would grow to be a beautiful kender. Her dirty blonde hair came down to the middle of her back, even when held up with a topknot, so she had to braid it tightly to keep it from hindering in playing rough and tumble games. With a soft complexion that caught the stray gazes of even the human children, Tas grew to be protective of his daughter. While he wasn't overtly shielding her from the world, Dreamflight noticed a few things that he would do – such as gently guide her away from the more raucous city boys they sometimes encountered. Crentha didn't know this yet, and so had not time to be resentful (not that Tas thought she ever would be).

Finally trailing behind, gazing as clouds drifted overhead and dreaming of some far off place or thing, Loki fell into Dreamflight's gaze. She smiled to herself, admiring the way her young son was completely oblivious to all things around him, yet managed to walk without stumbling. Loki, a mere child of ten years old, was named by Dreamflight. When Tas inquired as to why she chose such a peculiar name for their child, she merely said that it had an otherworldly meaning and that he need not concern himself. The boy was small and frail, as kender go but a little more so, as he had developed a common childhood sickness. Fearful that they would lose their baby, Dreamflight and Tas pleaded with Mishakal to heal their son, who agreed but did so by leaving her mark. Loki was a helpless dreamer, his mind always elsewhere and he took an avid interest in all that his mother had to tell him about the goddess. Not long after his last birthday, Dreamflight had broached the subject of his future, and he only shrugged and said that he liked music and would probably wind up doing something concerning that. Dreamflight was immensely relieved for her son had talents unparalleled by any of his age, and that rivaled his older sister. While he showed little enthusiasm for singing (preferred to use his voice for chatter instead) he showed exceptional talent in musical instruments. Once, he had even found Dreamflight's precious and favored flute, and tried to play it. Although the notes he hit made no sense in the order played, he made the flute sing under his thin and quick fingers. After that, Dreamflight was swift to nurture her baby boy into the art of musical instruments.

Firespice and Crentha, Tas noted, were uncannily serious for kender children. Dreamflight had shrugged the detail away, proclaiming that they were their children and that was all they should want. Later, she went on to explain that all the gods were serious, that it was a part of being omnipotent – a prerequisite of godhood if you would, and that some of that seriousness must have rubbed off. Not quite satisfied with the answer, but not sure if he should probe further, Tas had let it drop at that.

Warmth swept a chill from her hard as Tasslehoff took her hand in his. A glance between the two passed and Tas grinned widely. He paused walking long enough to sweep Dreamflight into his arms, their lips brushing once against each others', teasingly, and then chased after by an ardent kiss that broke off suddenly. The two grinned, having not tired of their own games. Time had only succeeded in making a fervent love, all the more so. The three children brushed past their parents, ignoring this commonplace affection.

"You two could wait for the Inn," Firespice muttered.Tas laughed, giving his wife a squeeze and releasing her to walk the path behind the dawdling Loki.

"I'll never understand love," Crentha sighed in her melodic voice. Dreamflight embraced her daughter fondly, knowing well enough that Crentha only made such declarations because they were romantic and she had an insatiable love of drama. Loki, now alongside his mother, merely smiled and thought about what a perfect family he had. This wasn't counting all the strange uncles and aunts from his mother's side of the family. Most weren't even kender, and Loki was beginning to suspect that only Uncle Bacher was a real uncle in blood.

"Did you hear that?" Firespice cocked his head and listened carefully. "It sounds like... Humming. And flapping. Did you feel that breeze?" Tas and Dreamflight looked at each other in disbelief.

"It's been fifteen years," Tas whispered softly to her, taking pains that their children not overhear and being very unsuccessful. "We haven't been bothered since the 'start' of the war. It couldn't be, could it?"

"I bet it's the pseudo-dragons," Firespice said, nudging Crentha with his elbow. The younger sister stood with her hands on her hips and measuring the draft.

"Pseudo wings don't sound like that..."

"Well have _you_ ever even seen a pseudo?"

"No, and neither have you."

"I've seen pictures!"

"But you can't feel pictures."

The bickering went on in the background as Dreamflight and Tas worried silently with each other. Dreamflight had a terrible feeling, something she'd gone without for years now... But its chill memory had never faded...

"I'll get to feel a pseudo now. Just watch."

"You'll get within ten feet and they'll probably step on you without a second thought."

"Oh yeah? I'll show you."

"Children, get back," Dreamflight warned. They did no such thing, of course. In fact, Firespice ran forward, swinging his hoopak in glee. Tas ran after him and Dreamflight guarded Loki and Crentha to ensure they wouldn't follow suit.

"Get back here!" Tas shouted, trying to conceal the thrill in his voice. He had missed the chase, although now it was him doing the chasing. Firespice ignored him, and so it was no surprise when he ran straight into the arms of the waiting locust. His surprised cry brought the rest of the family running. As he was being carried into the sky, a spider grabbed Loki, and a wasp plucked Crentha off the ground. Right before their eyes, the children of Tas and Dreamflight were stolen away. Dreamflight took to the sky, trying to chase after all three at the same time as Tas zigzagged below, shouting something. He gave a toss of his hoopak to the back of the spider, but it fell short and he slowed his run. Dreamflight landed next to him, falling to her knees as dizziness swam in her head. The world was spinning.

"My babies," Dreamflight moaned. "They took our babies!" Tas held her, but could offer little comfort. The dizziness both experienced grew, their vision darkened.

"I think there's something in the air," Tas murmured, resting his forehead against hers and shutting his eyes. "It smells funny. Strangely sweet." He couldn't get another word out, however, as their vision darkened and all was silent and peaceful.

* * *

Takhisis measured up the three demi-gods. They dangled helplessly in the grasps of their captives. The Queen of Darkness curled her lip and sneered.

"Mortals," she spat. "Weak willed little creatures. I was foolish to think anything of that... That fallen goddess would be within them." She turned her back to them abruptly and muttered at the wall. "At least Arikan was a brilliant strategist, but I don't need strategy right now. Power. Raw magical power." She turned back to the three kender children, and grumbled to herself.

Firespice roused and woke to see Takhisis glaring at him. He sucked his breath in surprise.

"Who are you?" he whispered. Takhisis answered, and was taken back by the child's glare. "Coward! Let my brother and sister go. Fight me one on one! I'll show you what happens when people bully my family. You should have seen that human I whipped a month ago!" Takhisis hadn't expected this kind of reaction. Mortals were to squirm and cower before her, but they showed temerity. And while this could have been potentially useful in some situations, Takhisis had no patience for temerity and decided that such rash actions could just well be stupidity. She laughed a high and piercing laugh. Firespice shuddered slightly.

"So I see now that the firstborn has his mother's audacity and his father's idiocy," she sneered. "Throw them away. Kill them if you will, but it would not surprise me if they popped up again like little cockroaches. It might run in the blood."

Firespice squirmed and shouted, waking his siblings. The younger two looked about in wide-eyed awe. Takhisis glowered at them as well.

"The Queen of Evil!" sang out Crentha. Loki nodded quietly. "She's not as pretty as mother described her in the songs."

"I think we should leave," whimpered Firespice as his captor cut into his arm. He tried to glare at the locust but movement wasn't an option.

"Just try," laughed Takhisis, becoming amused. "I may keep you if it's entertaining enough." Firespice looked around helplessly. He had no ideas, as his usual methods of swinging a hoopak and hoping it all worked out weren't available to him now. Loki appeared to enthralled with the situation to think, and so it was up to Crentha.

"Gods smile upon me... Grace us of what is and could be... My family is blessed... To be granted a rest... And be delivered safely from harm." Loki, always in tune to his sister's music, picked up the tune.

"Walk in light's sweet smile... Help me walk every mile... Neutrality by my guard... When the path becomes too hard.... Keep me from evil's path." Takhisis had now become angered at this effrontery, and she reached to slay them with but a touch (for she could do so in the Abyss), but a barrier stopped her hand. When she saw Dream's feather around Loki's neck, she understood what kind of protection the three were under, and growled in frustration. Crentha and Loki looked expectantly at Firespice. It took all three of them to make the magic work, just like the three moons as their father was wont to say. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he joined in tentatively.

"Guard my brother, guard my mother. Guard my father from the father from the dark... Guard my sister from evil's mark... From the evil that I see..." Three colors – red, white, and black – covered the children, lifting them up. The three gave delighted gasps of joy as they hovered in the air a moment, before blinking out of sight. Takhisis screamed her rage.


	2. Saviors

The first to wake up again was Crentha.

The kendermaiden groaned and sat up, rubbing her bruises and flexing her wings. She hadn't been aware of falling from anywhere. As far as she could recall, they had been flying, laughing at Takhisis's ire, and then fell asleep like one does sometimes in the middle of their own dreams. As she smoothed a finger over a light brown blotch on her arm, she became acutely aware that she was in some strange place, wide awake, and being watched – however she took her leisure. Whoever it was, if they had wanted to do her arm, would have by now.

Perhaps, she speculated, they want to kidnap me and charge my parents a ransom of some sort. It was a dreamy notion that she took in her head, slowing her self check process all the more. She envisioned an evil black knight on an undead horse, whisking her away to his castle stronghold in a great big mountain. It would be storming and there would be a full moon, it was rather a requisite of being a damsel in distress, and she'd scream so loudly that her Solamnic knight would come and rescue her, sweeping her off her feet and flying away on a pseudo, perhaps a mercury dragon.

When at last satisfied that nothing was broken, and having exhausted this notion of her situation, she stood up, dusting off her skirt, prepared her "helpless princess" look, and turned around. A woman stood, facing her. Her expression dropped as the dramatic dreams were smashed on the rocks of reality. However, it wouldn't make due to be rude just yet. Perhaps this was a witch. Any evil was good evil for these kinds of situations. "Can I help you?"

The woman was clad in long wine red robes, and her auburn hair was swept back and hidden within her cowl. Her face was half illuminated by the morning sun (or was it sunset?), and made light of her delicate features. Slender fingers, pale as was the rest of her skin, were clasped and held before her, and she seemed to contain no weapons. All in all, Crentha thought her to be quite helpless looking, albeit pretty. Ruby eyes regarded her thoughtfully, but she didn't think anything too odd of that. They were fascinating, yes, but plenty of people had gawked at her wings, and those were as natural to her as her arms. She'd learn to respect others' differences at an early age.

When the woman failed to reply, Crentha squirmed about and stuck out her hand, as her father had taught her. "My name is Crentha Burrfoot, daughter of-"

"Tasslehoff and Dreamflight," the woman finished. "I am pleased to meet you finally." Crentha studied this strange woman, who seemed to know about her family to an uncomfortable degree. There were many questions to be asked.

"How did you know that?"

"I've been watching you and your family since before you were born."

"Who are you then" she asked slowly. "Have you been spying on me and my family?" Crentha gave the woman a suspicious stare that only succeeded in bringing a slight smile to the cherry lips. "Because if so, I'd like you to ask me for permission first. I have no problem telling people about myself, but I could be offended if everyone just did whatever they felt like. What kind of person does that?" The woman tilted her head back in a delighted laugh, leaving Crentha to blink and stare, bewildered.

The woman stopped laughing, settled on grinning, and took Crentha's delicate hand in her own slender one. "I am Lunitari, the Goddess of Neutral Magic." Crentha waited expectantly. "Daughter of Gilean." Satisfied that the introduction had been completed in full as it should be (all unmarried daughters should state their parents name, she'd been taught by some very nice humans), Crentha stared opened mouth and in awe. She licked her lips and readied a list of questions that all kender have ever wanted to ask the gods. Lunitari raised a warning finger.

"I'm sorry, but there is not much time to chat," she said gently, apologetically. "Your family has been scattered about the world. Something is not right about this. Although kender, I have seen, have a love for wandering, Takhisis was involved in this after being involved with her war on Paladine and the pseudo dragons. If Takhisis and Chaos have planned something, then the gods of magic wish to help Dreams in thwarting them. Takhisis has betrayed us once, and given a second chance. Twice now she has betrayed us, and this time she will be brought to a greater justice." Crentha made a face, crossed her arms, and stood her ground. This was an imitation of the gestures she'd seen Grandpa Flint make on occasion when he and her father got into arguments.

"First, tell me what's going on," she demanded, hoping that the goddess wouldn't take offense, but secretly anxious to see what an angry goddess would do. "None of this makes sense to me. Who are Dreams and Chaos? What does Takhisis want with my family?" Lunitari brushed the dust of her gowns primly, and pushed open the door to the abode they were resting in. Now that the room was in sunlight, it appeared that Crentha and Lunitari had been waiting in a sickroom of some sorts. Off in the distance, a bell tolled.

"All in good time, Crentha. For now, we should leave. I transported-"the goddess paused, seeing the uncomprehending look on the kendermaiden's face. "Whoosed." Crentha immediately nodded and smiled, having fully understood that fond term. "Whooshed us to a Majere monastery and waited for you to come to, but now we should make haste. I have already agreed with my brothers to meet at Godshome, and from there we may find your parents." Lunitari took the protesting kender by the hand and gently lead them out of the dark sick room to bright morning sunshine, rolling hills, and milling monks. Crentha gazed around, admiring the scenery, and so Lunitari held the kender's hand tighter to discourage wandering and dawdling. However, Crentha's was elsewhere. As they reached the road to be traveled upon, she spoke up.

"How did you know to save us?"

Lunitari smiled. "Why, little one, we three heard your prayer."

* * *

Next, was Firespice.

Although an easy going kender, Firespice was on guard. As soon as he felt consciousness return to him, he leapt up to his feet, snatched the hoopak tied to his back (and never stopping to wonder how or why he had it, when at last it was in the clutches of something slimy and wriggling), and spun around with it. The weapon made its famous bullroar through the air until it smacked soundly against something unyielding. His eyes still closed, Firespice had assumed he'd hit a wall or something of stone. Slowly, he opened his eyes to confirm this.

A pale young man in white shimmering robes had caught the hoopak in his hand, and was holding it steady. The man's hair, bleached white even though he was not old at all, fell against his shoulders and blended well with his robes. The hand that held the hoopak was bony, strong, and extremely slender. A wan face with insipid eyes seemed to smile at the kender, even though his expression did not change. Firespice felt both uncomfortable and welcomed by his presence.

"Be at ease, Firespice Burrfoot," the man spoke gently. His voice was soft, flowing, but at the same time, commanding. It invoked in Firespice the image of his mother when she was lecturing him over some trivial mistake. However, he was squirming where he stood for this complete stranger was making him feel unease regardless. "Be calm, for I will not hurt you. I have brought you to the edges of the Silvenesti forests, people of my father." Firespice lowered the hoopak, but didn't let down his guard. "Come, we need to get to Godshome quickly to meet with your siblings." Without hesitation to see if Firespice would follow or not, the man turned and began walking. Firespice trotted after from behind with an inquiring look in his eye.

"Who are you?" he asked at length. Having broken the ice with one question, the torrent followed. "Where are we going? Where are my siblings? How do you know me? Are you a prophet? You look like a prophet. Did you see that I was in trouble? Is that how you know my name?" The man gently placed the tips of his fingers over Firespice's mouth, effectively silencing him.

"I am Solinari. We are going to Godshome. That is all that you need to know."

* * *

...And then Loki...

Loki's eyes fluttered open, and his vision was filled with dark and twisted tree limbs. Above that seemed to be nothing more than a canopy of starless, moonless night, glaring down on the worn out kender child. A breeze blew, driving the chill of the forest into his veins. He shivered, reaching for the feather around his neck and squeezing it for reassurance. It was a strange object, a magical present from his mother, and it worked only when it wanted to. He still found it to be a warm reminder when all things were confusing to him. Its touch was all he needed to gather his wits about himself.

He felt a flicker of warmth over his cold legs and glanced down to see the trailing hem of a long black robe partially covering him. The man wearing the robe, for he had a masculine bearing about himself, had his face hidden in the depths of his cowl. Try as he might, Loki could see nothing but shadow at every angle.

"You do not walk in darkness, Loki Burrfoot," a deep resonating voice spoke. "Therefore, you cannot see my face, but I plan to help you anyway." Loki was quiet still, wishing wistfully he could see what the man looked like, but remaining fascinated by the hands. Hands as cold and white looking as a corpse were fidgeting with each other for the moment the man had taken them out. Noticing the kender's gaze, he promptly thrust them back into the recesses of his robe and waited expectantly for any reaction.

"Why?" The word fell quietly as a snowflake on the air of a black winter night, smothered by the darkness all around him. Like a pinpoint of light, though, the voice seemed an unnatural contrast in this place while the man's voice gave the impression that he owned it. Nuitari smiled, grimly, but Loki did not know that.

"There are only two immortals my cousins and I fear," said the god. "Dreams, Goddess of Anything, Lady of Creation and Chaos, God of Nothing, Lord of Destruction. Both control everything. Both manipulate magic as if it were clay to be destroyed, shaped, or cast away completely however they see fit. For that, we fear ad adore them both. Nevertheless, Dreams gives us magic and endless possibilities. She encourages the use of magic, creation, and mysticism. Chaos would rather strip it away and disperse it, give it free will to do mayhem on its own." Nuitari paused for a moment. "You see why my cousins and I favor Dreams and are willing to aid her against Chaos." Loki stared at the god in silence.

He was not motivated to much chatter as the rest of his family was. He preferred to listen, to think, and to daydream. Only in music did he let his kender spirit squeal, squeak, and cry out in joy. Rarely in words. So even now, when hundreds of questions were in his head, he remained silent.

"What..." He began to ask a question, give voice to it, but the whisper died on his lips and he thought better of it. He suddenly did not feel compelled to ask. Nuitari was pleased with his discretion and silence.

"You do not let your tongue wag like your kin," noted Nuitari. "I believe we will get along just fine."

* * *

When Dreamflight woke, all went from black to white. The cold was so frigid it burned her until she had the thought that she was melting in a great white fireball. Every indrawn breath was agony, and she didn't even have the strength to shiver. She shut her eyes so she could look upon blackness, which seemed a warmer color.

"So this is what it is like to die," she thought. "No wonder mortals fight so much... I wouldn't want to die either, not like this... I thought you just closed your eyes and fell asleep, never to wake again." Feeling a particularly strong gale blast her, she thought, "And that is just what might happen." She was oblivious to her surroundings, not realizing that the wind wasn't howling that loudly, and that crunching snow was growing louder and closer. Someone had come to retrieve her.

An elven man, clad in some of the finest garments of silk, and wearing heavy furs over that, knelt in the snow next to the fallen kender. Carefully, he lay one of the pelts over her after checking for a pulse and the warm breath of life. He wrapped her in it, snugly as he could, and lifted her into his arms, holding him close against himself. Sighing, he turned and walked the way he had come, singing softly under his voice.

* * *

Takhisis walked the Abyss irritably, pacing back and forth and letting her rage coil around herself like a scarf. She paused and looked up hopefully as a goblin, one she held in captivity, dragged Tasslehoff to her feet. Now pleased and placated, she bid the goblin leave and looked down at the sleeping kender.

"I could snap you in two for all the troubles you've caused me," she hissed at him. In his sleep, Tas seemed to flinch. "But that would be too merciful. Breaking all your bones and rending your muscles would be too merciful. No... I shall do far worse for you..." She picked up the kender delicately, holding him as one would hold an unwanted stray cat, and conjured up some shackles and chains. She placed him in these and they snapped in place, and still he did not wake from his enchanted sleep that she had cast on him. Nor could any of the gods, any that knew what was transpiring, come to intercede (if they had wanted to) for the curse she had put on him as well as Dreamflight.

"Sleep," she crooned as Tas's chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. "Dream your last dream, for you shall wake to your nightmares. The plan is in action and Chaos shall be pleased. Fifteen years we waited for our chance, and you handed it to us on a platter of gold. I thank you, mortal." She curtseyed in mock. "For now the fun begins."


	3. Arrival in Solace

    Lunitari watched the kenderchild skipping on the road before her. She took a great interest in Crentha. They had been traveling for almost a month now, still trying to reach their destination. It was slow moving, despite the grueling pace that the goddess set. They stopped only two, three if there was need, times a day. Once for lunch, which was eaten very quickly and was normally a light meal that could be gulped without upsetting the stomach, and again for supper, sleep, and breakfast. Occasionally they would stop in a backwaters town to purchase supplies for Crentha, which normally only consisted of food and a surprising amount of tiny bandages from all the cuts, bumps, and bruises the kender attracted. While kender are renowned for being lucky, escaping death constantly, Crentha was not graceful and fell often enough while trying to entertain herself as they walked.   
    At first, Lunitari feared that their journey would be unbearable. Crentha talked _constantly_ about anything or anyone no matter how absurd or disjointed it may be. There were times when Lunitari made it quite clear that she would like to walk in silence for at least five minutes, but still Crentha rattled on, usually about how quiet she could be, and at last Lunitari gave up. She came to realize that Crentha would talk regardless if she listened or not, and so the prattling became part of the background hum of things just as much as birds, insects, and other sounds of the trail.   
    At the moment, Crentha was dawdling behind. She stared hard at the leaves and scenery, slowing more with everything she took in. Lunitari's own walk suddenly came to a standstill as Crentha stopped and looked hard a tree. For a moment there was silence until Lunitari threw up her hands with a sigh.   
    "What's so interesting about the tree?" she asked, hoping it would prompt the kenderchild moving again. Crentha's eyes softened as she gazed at the gnarled, twisted tree.   
    "We're almost to Solace," she replied wistfully, sadly. "You know, my birthday came and went last month without any celebration. We were all split up. I couldn't be around my family... But here, I have other family, those not of my blood." Lunitari knew what was coming next.   
    "We can't delay," sighed the goddess. "Come! We've no time to stop here." Crentha turned her back to Lunitari and sulked sullenly. Had it been anyone else, Lunitari would have been furious; however she had come to find kender children need only gentle words and time before yielding to whatever the request was. Surprisingly, Lunitari felt all the fonder to the child for that reason.   
    "Why don't you whoosh us there?" Crentha voiced the question that had been burning in her mind during the journey. She'd never asked, assuming and expectant that Lunitari would make it known why. Now she wanted an answer.   
    "There's a curse on you," answered Lunitari in a low voice. "Your brothers and parents bear it as well.... cast by Takhisis. We gods cannot use divine magic around you, or on you." Crentha looked down, abashed and sniffling. "What is the matter?"   
    The kender child whimpered softly in her throat, and kept her eyes downcast. "You're going to all this trouble to help me and I'm just making it harder. I'm sorry... I really am grateful! It's just that I have family here, and we've been traveling a month, and-"   
    "All right," interrupted Lunitari. "All right. We will pause in Solace to visit these brethren of yours. But only for a night!" There was a sudden tightness around her knees as Crentha wrapped her arms around Lunitari's knees.   
    "Thank you," mumbled Crentha, the words smothered in the thick red robes. "I promise I'll behave." Lunitari, embarrassed, gently pried Crentha from her legs, not knowing what else to do. Crentha grinned up at the goddess a moment before spinning around and running as fast as she could to Solace.   
    "I'll catch up!" Lunitari called after the speeding child. She was glad for a respite, and couldn't see any harm that Crentha could get into between where they stood on the road towards Haven and the protected Solace. "What tiring creatures... but so fascinating. Still, there is a good reason kender cannot perform magic." Earlier in their journey, Lunitari had relented to Crentha's pleas and performed a few cantrips of interest. The kender had been absolutely taken by the performance.   
    "I'm going to be a cleric when I grow up," she had said. "Perhaps I could be your cleric and use magic." Lunitari had quickly worked to dissuade Crentha of the notion. First, all red robed magi were considered to 'clerics' and kender couldn't become mages. When Crentha quelled and demanded to know why, Lunitari had gently explained that it takes hours of memorization to master a single spell for one use, and that she would have to take a deadly test in the Tower of Wayreth. The notion of the test only piqued Crentha's attitude to magic, but the prospect of studying for hours unending had done much to sully her fancy, much to Lunitari's relief.

    Once in Solace, Crentha made a beeline to the steps leading up to the Inn of the Last Home. With energy that made other step climbers watch on with envy, she mounted the steps two at a time, and still had breathe enough to burst through the door into the common room. As expected, she found Caramon and Tika here. She ran for Caramon and practically threw herself against him in a hug that only came to his thighs.   
    "Uncle Caramon!" she gasped. "I'm so glad to see you!" The big man had to take a step back and a moment to register who the eager kender at his feet was, but once he had recognized her, Caramon scooped Crentha into his arms with ease.   
    "Why if it isn't Crentha," he chuckled. "I suppose this means the rest of your family isn't far behind? Usually it's Firespice that gets to me first." Then, without rhyme or reason (to Caramon), Crentha burst into tears. She wrapped her skinny arms around his neck, buried her face in his shoulder, and cried out all her frustrations. Caramon pat and rubbed her back. "Crentha! What's wrong?" By now Tika had finished the table she was waiting on and walked over to see what was wrong as well. A few patrons craned their heads to watch, but most ignored the bawling kender.   
    "Mommy and Daddy are gone, and so are Loki and Firespice," Crentha sobbed. "We all got separated by Takhisis." At the mentioning of the goddess's name, Caramon quickly hushed Crentha as best as he could. Some of the people in the Inn were looking on them with suspicion now.   
    "Not so loud," Caramon whispered. "Come on. Tika, I'll take care of this." Tika nodded and resumed her tasks while Caramon carried Crentha to an empty room and shut the door. "Now what's this about Takhisis?"   
    Carefully and truthfully, Crentha relayed the whole story. She made no mention of Lunitari, however, having learned quickly that it irked the goddess to have her name known when she did not wish it. Caramon listened in amazement, anger, and awe.   
    "What's this mysterious lady of yours planning to do?" Caramon asked, a bit skeptical on that minor detail of the story. Crentha shrugged.   
    "Not sure," she said. "Well, I do know something, but I'm not allowed to tell you. Sorry Uncle Caramon." She paused. "Will Uncle Tanis and Grandpa Flint be visiting today?" Caramon smiled.   
    "I'm not sure, but I'll be glad to let you go see them if you like," he offered. "Later, though. I've still got work to do. Will your lady friend be coming along soon?" Crentha nodded. "Well, you two can stay for free tonight, that's for sure." He gave Crentha a gentle hug. "And maybe she and I can have a little chat. I can't just stand by idly while my friends are in danger." Crentha rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffled, smiling.   
    "Thank you, Uncle," she murmured. Until then, she hadn't noticed just how lonely she'd been for family. While now the ache to see her parents was even more acute, she found comfort in the presence of people whom she thought of as secondary family. Caramon led her back to the common room and tried to get her to amuse herself by the fireplace. Seeing that she was still restless, he administered a list of minor chores to do and went back to his own work.   
    "So Takhisis is still plotting," he thought. "The war was supposed to be drawing to an end... What's going on? I would have thought the pseudo dragons would have kept her busy." Furrowing his brow, he solicitously cleaned out a dirty mug. "I sure hope Tas and Dreamflight get out of this problem all right." He glanced at Crentha as visions of her orphanage swirled in his head. He put the thoughts out of mind. It wouldn't do to hex the future. Besides, they'd always come out on top before.


	4. Panthalas and Wayreth

Solinari had taken a less endearing state of mind to his charge. While an understanding and compassionate god, just like his parents, even the nicest of people get pushed to their limits when in the company of a creature who talked nonstop. Firespice took it upon himself to share every story and ask every question the mind could conceive. The only thing he did not question was their destination, for Solinari had made it quite clear that all Firespice had to do was trust him and he would be taken to safety.  
On this particular day, as the chill wind swirled fallen leaves on the ground, Firespice had been unusually and pleasantly quiet. Solinari hoped it was an omen of continued good behavior; he would have to treat the kender later if this was the case. His hopes were dashed quickly, however, as Firespice heaved a sigh so loud and obvious that Solinari had no choice but to respond.  
"Is something amiss?" he asked over his shoulder, casting a glance at the kenderchild. Firespice walked at a shuffle behind the god, his eyes on the road and his fingers twitching slightly. Solinari had taken offense to this at first, thinking that Firespice mocked his quick movements, but had come to learn that it was merely a nervous habit – one usually accompanied by the loss of something not enchanted from one of his pockets.  
Firespice glanced up and tried to put on his most pitiful look. Solinari was amused. "I miss my family." The half smile on the god's face fell and he sighed to himself. While the expression may have been a guise for something, the voice of the distraught kender was not. He pressed on, taking his pace faster and forcing Firespice to trot to keep up.  
"You will see them in time," Solinari promised. Firespice cheered, slightly, though his cloud of gloomy thoughts did not dissipate. He longed to know how his brother and sister were doing, and ached to feel the loving embrace of his parents. More so, he was worried of his siblings. It was his job to guard them, protect him; a job entrusted to him by his father who was always hinting that the son would wind up following in his footsteps. Firespice had no quarrel with the notion for he enjoyed his father's work immensely and took pleasure in the company of his younger brethren. Again, he felt the pang of loss while thinking of his family torn apart and blown to the four corners of the world, or so it seemed.  
Solinari had already explained to Firespice about the curse and so he knew it was futile to ask for a magical transportation. A question still nagged at him, however. At first, he couldn't give word to it, but it nagged him and bothered him until he'd finally dedicated a whole night to trying to figure out what was wrong. When at last it dawned upon him what the perplexing thing was, he resolutely decided to ask Solinari the next chance that arose. Now was such a chance.  
"I have a question," Firespice spoke up. Solinari repressed a sigh and smiled nicely at the kender.  
"Yes?"  
Firespice paused, trying to remember his eloquent wording that'd he'd been so proud of. It escaped him at the moment, so, shrugging, he asked in laymen's terms, "If you can't do any powerful magic on me or my family because Takhisis had put a curse on us, how come you were able to transport us away from Takhisis when my brother and sister were singing?" He had tactfully left out the fact that he had been singing as well. No need to sully his image before the god with the idea of such a silly pastime. He could almost picture the god laughing at him at the idea.  
Which was absurd of course. Solinari enjoyed music just as much as the next god. (True there were a few who did not like music that wasn't dedicated entirely to themselves, but those were mostly dark gods.) Pursing his lips in surprise that Firespice had asked such an intelligent question, Solinari paused to think best how to word his answer.  
"One who is under the curse is not prohibited from performing magic on themselves," he replied, slowly. "The three of you did just that, casting a type of spell that enabled us to deliver you to safety. It was short term, though." Firespice scowled and let it dropped, but his displeasure was not lasting. He'd performed magic and hadn't even noticed! If that were true, then imagine all the other fun things he could do. Perhaps he could even make a fireball!  
Grinning from ear to ear, and trying to figure out the words to the spell, Firespice ran into the back of Solinari's legs when the god suddenly stopped.  
"Oof," Firespice grunted, and stepped to the side to see what the commotion was. The two of them stood before the gates of Panthalas. Firespice, having been there only once since his birth, beamed in joy and awe.  
"This was not expected," Solinari muttered, all but glaring at the city. Firespice did not understand his ire, and began to stride resolutely to the city where he would surely be thrown out. "Where are you going? Child! Come back here!"  
"Relax," Firespice assured him, smiling. "I belong here." Solinari was slightly confused, but did not show it. However, Firespice took note of the lack of response and elaborated. "I was born here. This is sort of like a second home. Mom and Dad told me the whole story." He smiled proudly. Solinari did not wish to go into the city. He wanted to stop and figure out how they'd deviated so much from their course without traveling for months extra to get here. One moment they were north of Qualinesti and next they were farther north than the destination without any notable passages to show that they'd strayed from their intended course. However, Firespice was determined to go visit the city, and there were only a few ways to stop a kender from doing what he wanted. One way was through distraction.  
"Tell me the story," Solinari asked kindly, readying to phase out of mind and study the problem in his head while the kender blabbed. Firespice, unaware of this, leaned against his hoopak and happily launched into the tale.  
"Well, first, it was a terribly stormy night," he began. "There was thunder, lightning, and lots of rain. Perfect scenery for something as dramatic as a birth, huh? Anyways, Mom had just been rescued heroically from the Silvanesti elves by Dad and Uncle Caramon. Once out of their forests, Mom had cast a spell that let all three of them ride a beautiful metallic dragon. They landed outside of the gates and demanded to be let in, which the guards allowed right away! However, hearing that Takhisis was planning to attack the city, my father and Uncle Caramon bravely devoted themselves to foiling her plot. Mother gave Uncle Caramon something magical, don't remember what, and told him to take it to Uncle Raistlin. She was going to cast a big spell, but couldn't because I was on the way and giving her all sorts of trouble." Firespice grinned mischievously, as though taking some sort of delight in knowing he was causing trouble from before his birth. "So Dad found a whole bunch of other kender warriors, and they all banded together to fight the bugs on their own. Uncle Caramon and Uncle Raistlin went out to the very front of the army in Panthalas, and Uncle Raistlin cast a spell that killed him." Firespice paused in respectful reflection before continuing. "That's how the pseudo dragons came into the world. It's really funny, huh? Such big, powerful creatures were born the same night I was. Maybe that's why I'm so fascinated by them." He withdrew into his mind to think that over, giving Solinari the time to recollect his thoughts.  
"I suppose you were right," the god muttered. "This is your birthplace isn't it? Interesting... I have a plan." Solinari rested his hand on Firespice's shoulder, the fingers twitching slightly. "We'll visit Panthalas. You get to sight see and I get to investigate something very important. However!" The god raised a finger in warning. "Don't get in trouble. No borrowing things from people, no picking locks, nothing. Just gawk at all the pretty buildings and meet me outside a specific Inn. It's called the Worn Boot."  
Firespice looked on Solinari in some confusion. "How come we're staying at a no-name Inn? Wouldn't someone like you want to stay in the finest of places?" Solinari smiled slightly.  
"The less reputed the better," he assured Firespice. "Go on. Enjoy your freedom. I highly suggest you visit the Temple of Paladine, as it's a special place to the both of us." Firespice beamed and ran off to do just that.

The forest that Loki had awaken in lay in Qualinesti, surprisingly close to where Firespice had been, and yet, so very far. Nuitari had chosen the forest of Wayreth on purpose, not out of spite for the two children, for Nuitari was not a cruel god; simply resourceful, however the dark god had no intentions of the brothers having a rendezvous. For this reason, Nuitari had worked laboriously to ensure Solinari and Firespice leave them far behind.  
Nuitari was not about to break his promise (imagine the wrath of Dreams!) but he planned to take a different approach to the problem. This curse his mother had cast was an intricate one and powerful to boot. It interested him greatly, for he didn't believe his mother clever enough to cast it. Even now, as the god and kender walked together in silence, he tried to unravel the two mysteries in his head – who had cast it and how to break it. Nuitari would not be humiliated; he did not intend to go traipsing about the countryside holding hands with a kenderchild. He would break this curse and use magic to transport the child to Godshome.  
At the same time, questions of all sorts chased each other in Loki's head. Where was he? Why was it so dark? Where were they going and why? He remained quiet, however, because it pleased this powerful stranger and he wasn't in any position to be getting in trouble. It wasn't as much fun to cause mischief without his more adventurous siblings anyways. To pass the time, Loki amused himself with all the sights and sounds of the strange forest.  
The forest was cold, granted it was Leafplay month. Loki thought fondly of the games he'd play with his family concerning catching falling leaves and running through piles of them. He cast a hopeful upward glance but the leaves here clung to the branches; those that fell fluttered to the ground like sick, wounded birds and were ugly brown colors instead of the vibrant reds and oranges of home. Loki decided he was not at all inclined to go romping through them. Dejectedly, he lowered his eyes and kept walking.  
"We do not have much farther to go," Nuitari replied crisply. "I trust you'll want toe explore the tower. You may, but only with a guide. I think you will enjoy your stay. The few kender who have been lucky enough to come, your father included, have enjoyed it very much." His voice took on an edge. "I also trust you will not repeat those same mistakes as your father." Loki had a vague understanding of what Nuitari was talking about. His father had regaled the three children with endless tales of adventure. Loki recalled faintly, tangled in the messy collection of stories in his head, his father delighting the children with a tale of being turned into a mouse from an enchanted ring prior to a time-traveling trip into the far past. It brought Loki a smirk to envision himself scurrying on the ground.  
Nuitari heard only silence in return, and was beginning to find it unsettling. Loki was pleasantly quiet, but more so than a normal kender. Nuitari stopped and turned to address the kender. Loki nearly bowled into him, but caught himself at the last moment with practiced ease.  
"You are not my prisoner," Nuitari said softly. "You are my guest. There is no need to fear me because I am trying to help you." Loki lifted his head and stared into the darkness of the cowl, questions in his eyes and silence on his lips. Nuitari's temper flared. "Blast it, child! What is it you want!?" A glint entered the inquiring eyes and the silent lips quirked into an impish grin.  
"A flute," he replied. Nuitari stared. With a slow, cautious movement, Nuitari spoke the words to the simple cantrip and summoned an ebony wood flute. It was an easy spell, but one more resigned to bards. Nuitari looked carefully at Loki's face but saw only eagerness and longing. He handed the flute over and resumed the walk.  
The god was impressed. Loki played the flute with all his soul and it sang everything that had been bottled up in the child. First, a bright and calming song that abruptly turned erratic and discordant (though tastefully so). Now, the tune melted into melancholy. The god and kender marched to the tower in silence of words, the music doing all the talking.

The tower of Wayreth, to Loki, was both what he had expected and not. He'd expected a tall, looming tower shrouded in mystery and secrets. He expected the cloudy overcast to give the tower a sinister and foreboding look. He had not expected the garden with slightly wilting looking roses and other plants. He conveyed his delight in the sudden splash of color by playing a few uplifting notes.  
"You should put the flute down now," advised Nuitari, which Loki complacently agreed to do. "Remain as quiet and well behaved as you have during the trip. This will be brief."  
Nuitari sorely wished he could just transport himself and Loki to the room of Ladonna, head of the Black Robes. However, if he were capable of doing that he wouldn't be here in the first place. Stifling a sigh, Nuitari walked into the Tower with the kender in tow.  
He may not be able to work his magic on Loki, but he could do other things. Ladonna stood ready and waiting to intercept them, and did so quietly. Nuitari had sent word ahead of his coming by means of magic and made it clear he did not want to be bothered by other magi. Once in a well furnished room, Ladonna shut and magi-locked the door.  
"My lord," Ladonna said, bowing. She merely glanced at Loki. If she had any questions as to his presence, she would not make herself look stupid by asking Nuitari outright.  
"Thank you, Ladonna." Nuitari took a seat by the fireplace. "I have a favor to ask of you." Ladonna glanced first at Loki and then back to Nuitari.  
"My lord?"  
"He knows." Nuitari gave a wave of a dismissive hand. "Pay him no mind. He will behave." This last word was spoken with emphasis as Loki began to wander to another part of the room. Frowning at the command, Loki took a seat. Ladonna hastily summoned a platter of delicacies she'd had prepared earlier. At the sight of the food, Loki's stomach gnawed hungrily at his insides. Delighted, he began to dig into the platter.  
Nuitari smiled grimly. "My favor is quite simple. I would like a personal room to work in. I wish to conduct a few tests on this child; therefore, he will need a room as well." Bitterly, he added. "Not with me."  
"I am sure there are cages that will fit-" Ladonna began, but fell silent as Nuitari slammed a fist against the wooden armrest of his chair.  
"He will not be caged!" fumed the god, causing his servant to flinch and Loki to look up curiously. Nuitari glowered at him. "Keep eating! Ignore us!" Loki shrugged and resumed his feasting. Nuitari's fist unclenched. "I did not mean to snap… This child, Loki is his name, is my guest. We are doing a favor for one another. I wish him to be comfortably accommodated and tended to. There was a thick silence as Ladonna digested the thought, and then Nuitari continued in her mind. "He is no ordinary kender. He is quiet, well behaved… He has a potential that can be harnessed with the right discipline and motivation." Ladonna was surprised. She had no doubt that Nuitari meant what he said – why else go to all this trouble? But who had ever heard of a kender mage? Who'd even want to think about such a disastrous concept?  
Nuitari sensed her hesitation and laughed. "You will see. Watch. He does not ask stupid questions and gape like an ignoramus in the presence of magic." He beckoned Loki, who looked longingly at the platter of food that was quickly turning to crumbs as the child ravished the meal. Nuitari frowned. "It will still be there!" Loki jumped and slid out of his chair, walking over to Nuitari and cocking his head curiously. Nuitari spread his hands and let the magic crackle between hi fingers, dancing on his knuckles and racing along his wrist. Loki watched, eyes wide with delight, and mouth shut with awe. Nuitari cut off the light show abruptly and looked hard at Loki, silent and waiting for a reply.  
Loki fidgeted under the gaze until he realized he was supposed to comment. "If you could see music… I bet that's what it would look like." Ladonna raised a brow and Nuitari frowned.  
"You have music on the brain," the god scowled, rising. "Tend to him, Ladonna. I have work to do." Loki wandered back to his meal and Ladonna bowed low.  
"Yes, my lord."


	5. Singing and Silenced

A/N: I combined Loki's story with Firespice's to lengthen up the chapter! This one will be shorter though. Sorry.

The elf pulled the furs he'd reserved for himself tightly around his face and shut his eyes, plowing against the wind with his head bowed. He hunched over the frozen kender in his arms, using himself as a shield against the cold. In all reality, he did not feel the biting chill, but habit made him keep up the appearance. Finally, when he'd reached a sheltered outlook of rock cropping that kept away the wind, he set Dreamflight down and covered her up nicely. He frowned and looked around for where there might be a source of wood, but not finding any, shrugged and conjured up a magical one. Next, he brushed away the snow on the rock and sat down, picking up Dreamflight once again, and wrapping her in the furs he'd carried on his back.

"That should do it," he thought. Smiling at her, wondering if cheerfulness would help at all, he rocked her as one rocks a baby and sang a song of warm summer days.

Dreamflight felt unusually warm when she woke. She still shivered fiercely, but now the cold was freezing and not burning. When she breathed in, she could smell a musky scent. Something soft and comforting covered her and she was being rocked slowly. It lulled her, but she was not ready to sleep just yet. There was a crackling noise, occasionally followed by a pop, the howl of the wind; closer than any of those sounds was a soft, sweet singing voice. Enchanted, Dreamflight snuggled against the softness around her.

"Ah, you're awake…" Dreamflight willed her eyes to open, but all she could see was brown and black fur. That voice was familiar, though. Soft, delicate fingers slid along her cheek and chin. Her head was tilted slightly and a handsome elven face looked at her. His eyes were… Light brown? No, golden almost.

"Branchala," she mumbled, surprised at the weakness in her voice. How long had she lain in the snow, thinking about mortality? "What? … When?" He smiled at her, readjusting the pelts fussily.

"Shush," he whispered. "You're still not well. Thank Paladine and the other that the gods found out about Takhisis's little plan, even though we were too late to stop it." Frowning thoughtfully, Branchala gave her an apologetic squeeze. Dreamflight didn't hear him. She was tired and cold, worried about her family. Branchala offered a comfort that she willingly clung to. Lovely Branchala… Her best friend and trusted ally.

"Eyeran elf," she slurred in kenderspeak as her head drooped back into the furs. Tenderly, he lifted it back up again.

"Certain bodies for certain jobs," he replied laughingly. "I was considering a human body – brute strength you know. But they're not graceful or melodic like the elves. There's a discord in humans. It bothers me, and so I avoid that form when I can." He looked down into Dreamflight's sleepy eyes. "A kender body couldn't carry you out of the depths of Icereach, my dear." Dreamflight continued to stare with that sleepy expression, but the frost numbed mind soon registered exactly what he'd said and she struggled to sit up and look around. "Yes, that's where we're at. You don't need to exhaust yourself trying to see. You can take my word for it." She shivered harder, so Branchala moved her closer to the magical fire.

"Tas," she murmured, ache and longing ringing in her voice. "Emey kyids."

"They are fine. Last I heard, the cousins of magic were with your children. I am sure Tas is managing as well." Branchala smiled sadly, this time letting her head rest against the furs as it dropped again and she slipped back into cold dreams. Sighing, knowing she would not talk to him again until she got better, Branchala sang some more. The words seemed to suddenly bubble out of him, unbidden, and unplanned.

_The sun shines on your face  
And my heart begins to race.  
I remembered all we had.  
And it wasn't all that bad.  
But time has come and gone.  
I know I should move on.  
I will… I will…_

Before he could sing the next verse to her, he caught a dark shadow disappear from the corner of his eyes. He did not need to guess who it was, for he knew, knew in his heart as well as mind, who it had been playing with him like a puppet. Feelings of fascination and love drained away icily.

"Damn you, Chaos," he thought. "I know your game. You looked into my heart for weakness and found it. Are you doing the same to the others? I won't let you exploit the sacred memories of our past. You won't control me." He spoke the rest aloud, hoping Chaos would hear him. "Yes, I love her. I'll always love her. It's that love that ensures I will not hurt her. You lose, Chaos! We're not as stupid as you think!" Smiling, satisfied he'd cursed out his mental demons, Branchala rewarded him with those same memories as the Goddess of Dreams slept in his arms soundly; unaware of what went on around her.

* * *

Tas woke up in a world of pain – literally. He opened his eyes to find himself shackled to a wooden table with iron chains. There were contraptions all around him, though he could only catch glimpses from the corners of his eyes. He found it hard to move for his head was being held in place with an iron band. Frowning, Tas thought of how he would have liked very much to get up and inspect his surroundings. Whoever had done this, was very inconsiderate when determining the view of the position.

"He is awake…" A voice, terribly recognizable, sent white hot pricks of pain in his mind. That terrible, horrible voice. "Shall we begin?"

"I'm not stopping you…." Tas saw black dragon heads loom over him and he became transfixed with fascinated horror. A familiar, uncomfortable chill swept through him.

"Good morning, little kender. In case you're wondering what this is, you're in the Abyss. Again. Although this time I have invited you personally." Each of the five heads gave a sibilant hiss in turn - fetid breath blew on him and made his stomach lurch. "I've long looked forward to this day, Burrfoot, and you made it so easy for me. I could have done more than open a portal to the Abyss and you would have come skipping in." Tas flinched and swallowed.

"Actually, I've been to the Abyss already," he replied meekly. "Nice place, wouldn't want to spoil the experience by coming back." Behind him, Tas heard a deep male voice chuckling.

"I'm afraid it's too late for that," Takhisis wheedled in apologetic tones. "But I'll be sure than your stay this time will be equally as pleasant, if not more so." Tas's teeth began to chatter, and he squirmed in his bonds that seemed to grow tighter with each passing moment. The heads moved closer, a couple of them snapping dangerously close to his face. "I see you don't enjoy entertaining that line of thought. I could make it easier for the both of us if you'll just do one small favor." Tas ceased his struggling and looked into all the eyes, cautious but terribly curious.

"Go on," Tas urged, finding that as he relaxed, his bonds loosened as well. He made a quick mental note and shoved it into the back of his mind, hoping the forming plans would not be discovered. Takhisis noticed these thoughts, and paid them no heed.

"Give me your undying loyalty as a servant," she demanded. Tas would have laughed if he felt it wouldn't have led to a painful demise. Instead he just stomped on his fear and glared right back at the leering eyes.

"Forget about it!" As soon as the words left his mouth, pain caused gasps to fill the silence. It flowed from his limbs into his body and exploded in his brain. Tears stung his eyes, but Tas did not scream out. The pain was no worse than some other scrapes he'd found himself in.

"He is stubborn," the deep voice noted. "You handle this in a crude manner, daughter." Takhisis seemed to hiss angrily but held herself in check.

"It is a slow process," she admitted. "But it is effective." She turned back to Tas, who was gritting his teeth with the effort to remain silent. "Pledge your soul to me." Tas spit out another refusal, and Takhisis gave the torture cranks another turn. This time, Tas's pain filled cried echoed in the room briefly. Chaos simply yawned. "You will see. One must first break the body..."


	6. Despair

A/N: Sorry. Stupid editor won't let me put in line breaks. I'll reformat this chapter later.

Loki found himself deposited in a stuffy, dark room hat smelled strongly of dust. The room was very dark, lit only by a single candle that rested on a dresser, the light reflected partially by the dressing mirror that was affixed to the back of the dresser. Other than that, the only piece of furniture was a rather flat looking straw mattress. He suspected that the mages had put a bed in some obscure and old dormitory and left him to his own devises. This was not unusual to Loki. Once, when he'd been very bad, Dreamflight had put him in a room with nothing inside and instructed him to stare at the wall and think of why it was dangerous to give his sister a hotfoot while she slept. Loki had whiled away that eternity of boredom thinking first of all the ways to escape, then with some guilt upon his act, and ending with plots of what to do next time. She never inflicted the punishment again, but only because Tas had deemed it too cruel.

There being nothing of interest in the entire room, Loki decided to explore elsewhere. When he placed his hand upon the handle and gave it a turn, however, he found it to be securely locked. There was no keyhole, and so it had to have been magically locked. With a sigh, Loki thought of his lock picks located on an inside pocket of his vest and sat on the bed. After a few moments of reflection, Loki decided to glean whatever interest he could from the two pieces of sad, old furniture. First he kicked his heels against the bed and saw a little dust fly into the air. It was apparently much older than he had thought. Then, grinning slightly to himself, he stood up and began hopping up and down, sending a storm of dust into the air that soon filled the room. He imagined, while hopping, that he was some great giant causing a sand storm in the Plains of Dust.

The door suddenly opened and a small mage's head poked in, squinting against the whirlwind of dust.

"Stop that!" the magus scolded, coughing heavily. Loki stopped, but only because he began to have trouble drawing breath as well. Finding this rather exhilarating, Loki began experimenting with holding his breath until he began to look blue in the face. The magi, thinking that he was suffocating, grabbed the kender by the wrists and bodily hauled him into the corridor. Loki released his pent up breath and began drawing gulps of air, coughing and laughing consecutively. Once they both breathed easy again, the mage resumed scolding Loki.

"I didn't think anyone could get in trouble in such a simple room, but you proved me wrong!" The mage scowled as Loki shook out his topknot, sending dirt into the air again. "Ladonna said you were well behaved. Ha! An obedient kender! She must take me for a fool or else this is punishment detail for concerning those crucibles…" Loki grinned happily at the mage, his eyes sparkling. The mage glowered. "What are you smiling at?"

"I was wondering what other nice things she said of me," Loki replied, absolutely beaming in pride. Before the mage could comment, however, Loki stuck out a hand. "My name is Loki Burrfoot." The magus did not shake the offered hand; went so far as to take a step back away from Loki. To him, knowing his luck, Lunitari would appear before him if he tried to make any sociable contact.

"I am Kvech Riolus," he muttered, loath to share that much information about himself. Loki either did not catch his tone or did not care, for he was not in the least bit insulted.

"Nuitari said I could look at the tower as long as I had a guide," Loki hinted modestly. Kvech thought to reprimand the child for his casual use of the god's name, and in such a feeble lie. Knowing that an argument would only leave him with a headache, though, he settled on a glare. "Will you be my guide?"

"I have come only to ask if you needed anything," Kvech replied sourly. He had been in the middle of examining a text about minotaur shamans and was most upset at the disturbance. He blamed the kender. "I have no intentions of babysitting a kender."

"I'm not a baby," Loki corrected mildly. "I'm only a few years younger than my oldest brother, Firespice, who, had we not been all separated from each other, would be on wanderlust by now." Loki's face saddened and his gaze turned inward as he thought. "I hope he and Crentha are okay. You know, it's my job as the most responsible to look after them both." Kvech rubbed his temples. If this pesky kender child was the most responsible of the family, he shuddered to think of what any of the others would have been like.

"I will bring a silence spell next time," he muttered to himself, the kender's prattling beginning to grate on his paper thin nerves. Loki perked up from his sad ponderings.

"I would like to see that." Loki smiled brightly at the mage. "Please, let me see some of the tower before you show me, though. Please?" Kvech sighed heaviliy and made a mental note to never break another crucible. The kender tried his most pleading, guileless look on Kvech. The effect was lost, but the mage was considering selling his soul if it would only shut Loki up.

"Very well…" Before the words were even out of his mouth, however, Loki spun on his heel and ran off. Kvech pursued cursed his stupidity under his breath and ran after the bouncing topknot. "You wretched kender! Get back here! Someone stop him!" Loki glanced back at the furious mage, grinning in delight and checking to make sure he did not run past anything that could be considered interesting. He wondered what Kvech was so upset about. Loki had gotten permission twice now to explore the tower and he intended to do just that. He looked back in front of himself, saw a glimpse of red velvet, but not in time to stop himself from the collision with another mage. While extricating himself, Loki heard Kvech come to a stop and draw a sharp breath.

"Justarius!" Kvech sputtered. "I am terribly, terribly sorry! The kender got away and I was trying my hardest to catch him."

Loki did not know who Justarius was, but had an inkling that he was someone powerful or important. The archmagus picked himself off the floor, dusting his robes off and scowling fiercely.

"I had heard we had a kender for an honored guest," he growled darkly. "I had desperately hoped these were rumors." Loki grinned at up at Justarius, the words to his introduction poised and ready for Justarius to make the first move. The mage only glared. "Aren't you even going to apologize?"

Loki couldn't believe his own manners and hastily corrected himself. "I'm sorry you knocked me down." The words were said with all sincerity. "I'll be more careful to give you plenty of room next time."

Justarius glared. "Since you cannot contain him, Kvech, I suggest you send him o someone who can." After a moment's thought, Justarius supplied a couple names. "Send him to Oedisan or Vansal."

Kvech was surprised. "Oedisan is part gnome, and addled in the head from old age. Vansal's mind floats on clouds, sir. Are you quite sure?" Both mages turned to Loki, who had tried to crawl up the wall to examine a light fixture in the likeness of a dragon.

"They'll all get along splendidly," Justarius decided.

(Stupid editor won't let me put a horizontal bar in.)

Tika finished helping the last customer out of the door before closing the Inn for the night. By now, the stars were shining brightly in the sky and most of the Inn's customers were sleeping in their beds or in the rooms of the Inn. Caramon finished sweeping up the refuse and litter, and Crentha lay curled up in front of the fireplace, clinging to a stuffed toy lion that one of Tika's young sons had kindly lent her. Crentha found the toy to be so amusing that she left the rest of the bar's patrons alone, and Tika rewarded her son's ingenuity with an extra dessert. Lunitari sat in front of the fire as well – seated in a large leather chair and sipping from a mug of freshly made hot cider. Her lips were pursed in thought, black hair glistening in the light of the flames. Her eyes seemed to dance with the radiance of the fire, burning as bright red as the heart of the blaze. Tika pulled two more chairs near her, and settled into the one to the left of the goddess to rest her feet.

Crentha, roused by the noise of scraping chairs, whimpered softly and stirred from her sleep. She sat up, rubbing first one eye and then the other, looking around the empty and silent room with sleep heavy eyes. "Mommy?"

"You should go to bed," Lunitari advised. Crentha got up, yawned and rubbed her eyes again, before sitting back down next to Tika's legs and laying her head on Tika's lap. Lunitari just gave a light shake of her head, not having thought that the little girl would listen to her advise anyways. Tika smiled and stroked the braided topknot, feeling both pity and love for the child of innocence. Lunitari frowned and decided not to argue with Crentha. It was far too late in the night for that, and so long as she quiet, Lunitari could think about all the many problems going on in the world. Caramon set the broom aside and walked over, sitting in the vacant chair with a groan of age and a sigh of comfort.

"It's nice to meet you, Miss Luna," Caramon replied kindly, using the alias Lunitari had introduced herself by. "I'd like to say for myself and on Tas's behalf that we're thankful someone is taking care of Crentha. She's like family to everyone around here." Lunitari smiled archly. "Although she told us quite a story on how she came to be here with you, and we'd like to sort the fact from the fiction." Caramon smiled nicely and waited for Lunitari to say something that would clear this whole mess up. Quite likely, Crentha had gotten lost from the family on a trip and told the stranger where to take her, adding a few exotic details to spice the story up. Lunitari just sipped at the cider thoughtfully.

"Everything the child says is true." Lunitari smirked slightly as Caramon continued to stare, and Tika looking quite confused. "Most likely." Tika and Caramon glanced at each other, beginning to have doubts about the sanity of this woman. Anyone who believed a kender tale couldn't be all right in the head. Lunitari just smiled bitterly. After all the time spent with Crentha, talking of kender and about kender, she sometimes doubted her own sanity as well, and so could quite understand what the two innkeepers were thinking. "It must be hard to swallow."

Caramon nodded and cleared his throat uncomfortably. He suddenly missed his brother acutely, feeling that Raistlin would handle the situation better. "How did you come across Crentha?" Lunitari had a lie prepared from long ago that she had selected just for such occasions.

"She fell into my arms," Lunitari answered smoothly. "There was a bright red light, above me, and as I looked up, this child came tumbling from a blazing aura. I caught her, of course. I believe she was transported by a divine force, if you would like my opinion." Caramon nodded quite simply, and Lunitari had the distinct impression that he didn't understand at all, and simply did not want to ask. She frowned, hoping that the accounts were wrong and Caramon was of quicker thinking than Paladine had related. She had her doubts.

"Not to be rude, but why did you help her?" Tika inquired suddenly. Lunitari was not offended and found this to be a very good question; she was forced to actually mull the answer over in her head. Had the virtues of mankind so deteriorated that help couldn't be administered without reason? Lunitari frowned and stared deeper into the fire.

"I like kender," she said at length. "They spend their whole lives pursuing the answers to things and seeking new adventures. It's an admirable trait, even if they use it foolishly." It was a lie, of course. A fine lie, as far as she was concerned. One so well concocted that she began to wonder if there wasn't truth in the sudden revelation. No, she thought. She was expending this time and energy for Dreams, in fear of and love of, not for Crentha. Seeing the child slumber, however, she began to wonder.

"I need to be someplace," Lunitari announced suddenly, nearling spilling the cider as she stood quickly. The thoughts she had begun having were uncomfortable, and she now desired to be far away from this place. "I hope Crentha will be welcome to sleep here tonight."

"Yes, of course," Caramon assured her, jumping to open the door as he did for all guests. Tika took the time to gather up Crentha into her arms and carry her like one of her own small children before following Lunitari to the threshold of the door.

"Thank you." Lunitari paused to glance again at Crentha.

The moons still circled above, even with the deities on Seler, though the light was pale and hollow this night. Red light bathed the slumbering kender, and Lunitari's heart constricted painfully. She turned on her heel and walked briskly away, red robes flapping behind her. Caramon and Tika watched her stride off, wondering what to make of it all.

Once a distance enough away, Lunitari cast the teleporting spell, and Solace melted away. Soon the crisp chill air of Godshome surrounded her. She paused and breathed in deeply, taking comfort in the coldness. Solinari had already arrived, and Nuitari appeared moments later beside her.

"It's been one month since we began on our mission," Solinari began. "How are we all doing?"

"Crentha has made the journey lively," Lunitari replied with a caustic laugh. "She insisted on staying in Solace this night with the friends of her parents, and so there she stays for now." Solinari and Nuitari glanced at Lunitari in what could almost be surprise. "I relented as a form of a Gift of Life Day present to the poor thing." This was added quickly and coldly, and Solinari had to restrain himself from smiling knowingly.

"Firespice has gotten in endless trouble," he complained. "I chase, catch, scold, and punish him. Nothing makes a difference. Dratted child can't keep a thought in his head except for maps, adventure, and family." Solinari heaved a sigh. "Although I cannot fault him for that." The two gods turned and faced Nuitari expectantly, who was smirking quite smugly.

"It would seem I got the luck of the draw," Nuitari chuckled. "Loki is quiet and well behaved. He does as he is told and is easily kept busy by my aides. I daresay he is taking to the magic in a most professional manner." Solinari frowned. He was disturbed by the notion of Loki using magic, but bigger issues pressed them.

"Aren't you even attempting to bring the kender here?"

Nuitari laced his twitching fingers. "I am trying to break the curse. Thusfar, I have been unsuccessful in this endeavor. However, in my month long search, I've found it safe to say that Takhisis did not cast this. The spell is far too delicate and complex for her feeble grasp. She is a warrior. This is something that I would be more inclined to cast. I am sure that if mother had it her way, she would have sent an army after the children as she did for the parents. Someone is helping her in this." Nuitari's eyes darkened. "The curse is not exactly the same as I would cast it, however. If I did not know better, I would say that the structure of the curse changes every time I examine it." None of the others had to think hard as to whom this curse originated from. "This was certainly cast by Chaos." The other two appeared grim at this news.

"Perhaps, then, you will never break it," Solinari replied delicately. Nuitari glared, not so much indignant at the response as suspect that Solinari spoke truly. His frustration had grown with every day that passed and he still was no closer to an answer than when he started. He'd almost taken his rage out on the kender, but caught himself just in time to reconsider what the repercussions would have been should he return to Godshome with little more than charred ash and bright clothing.

"I have come too far to give up now," he muttered sullenly. Lunitari stiffened and looked around, her eyes wide.

"We are not alone," she whispered. The cousins came together more closely, turning so that their backs cornered each other. In the darkness around them, three detached shadows stepped forth and the mages could see them clearly. Chemosh, Zeboim,and Hiddukel.

"What a merry gathering on our doorstep," mused Hiddukel. "I wonder what treacherous deeds they are plotting."

"Treacherous to whom?" shot back Lunitari. "We are masters to ourselves and nother." Hiddukel merely made a clicking noise with his tongue and smirked.

"Mother is most disappointed with you," Zeboim sneered, glaring with open hostility at Nuitari. He regarded his twin sister with calm, cold hatred.

"Since when did I start caring what she thought of my business?" Nuitari countered smoothly. "And more to the point, dear sister, since when did you care anything of either of us? If I recall, you called our mother a cow the last time we met." Zeboim glanced almost fearfully at the sky, but upon seeing no black bolts hurled upon her head, scowled at Nuitari.

"What do you want with us?" Solinari demanded, his hands itching to cast a spell. Chemosh stepped forward and stared hard at the three.

"Chaos has a plan that is being set in motion as we speak," he replied. "That plan must not be disrupted. Before, in the War of Chaos, we ran from Himself. Now he is willing to give us another chance and embrace him, with the knowledge that he cannot destroy the world of Dreams acknowledged. We would be able to live in peace, all of us, but some sniveling, stupid magical children have decided to run off and play kender saviors, not the mention a few other thorns in our side." The cousins remained silent and listening intently. "Leave now or you will find not only our wrath, but Himself coming for you. Or do you no longer fear his power?"

The three did. They feared him immensely, just as much as they feared Dreams. While they favored one over the other, they dared not invoke the possibility of being erased completely through open defiance. There were other ways to get a job done, slower ones. They would be used. With a bow of their heads, the three gods surrendered and stepped through the portal back to their homes to plot revenge much more quietly.

With a month to traverse the worst of Icereach and a few weeks upon a boat, Dreamflight flung herself to the ground of the warmer continent, reveling in her newfound freedom.

"You're making a scene," Branchala chastised with a smile. Dreamflight ignored him and kissed a nearby daisy, giggling as its petals tickled her nose. Everything here felt so vibrant and beautiful. She had nothing against snow, but decided that the next time she and Tas went on a vacation, it would be to somewhere very warm and sunny. One of the sailors, who had taken a bet that the elf would never last and was quite surprised to find he'd lost, hopped onto the dock and strolled up beside Branchala.

"You two got off and on with each other. Are you traveling partners?" He eyed Dreamflight carefully, who in a fit of giggles, had thrown her arms around the nearest person and exclaimed her joy for the solid ground. Branchala nodded and hurried to extract Dreamflight from the horrified woman, who was making a clumsy attempt to beat the kender off with a purse while at the same time keeping it tightly shut. The sailor chuckled loudly. "By the gods, elf, you're even crazier than your friend, then!" Branchala flushed in delight, finding this a high compliment. Not because Dreams was a higher goddess, and that he should work to strive towards that aspiring position, but because she _was_ crazy, and that was his favorite way to live life. Grinning, he lifted Dreamflight and set her on his shoulders, both out of delight and to keep her from anymore trouble as they walked into the port town. Laughing, Dreamflight spread her wings and kept them open, mock sails, as Branchala carried her along.

"We'll find somewhere to eat before discussing a plan," Branchala announced. He smiled and nodded to two very perplexed guards, who weren't sure what to make of the tall jovial elf with a winged kender riding him.

"Plan?" repeated Dreamflight, perplexed. "What plan?" Branchala ducked low into an inn to avoid bumping Dreamflight on the doorway. She ducked as well, just barely clearing the beams. "What happened while I slept?" Pausing a moment, she suddenly burst into giggles. "Déjà vu!" Branchala lifted her off his shoulders, sighing as she seemed to cause just as much trouble with her mouth as when running around. Many of the bar patrons glanced up at the spectacle of the elf and kender, which was no fault but his own, and now squinted suspiciously at her sudden strange outburst. He tried in vain to shush her.

"Nobody here knows what that means," he hissed, wishing with fervor that all the people would stop staring. "Stop making other worldly references!" He placed his hands upon her shoulders and pushed her down into a seat, but she popped back up under his touch, standing on the chair.

"But you understand, and that is what's important to me," she argued, picking up a bread stick from another table. "That's twice I've asked you that question." She grinned at him, memories sparking from long ago and she was forced to smother a giggle. "The first time I asked you, you strummed your lute and said, 'Oh, the cataclysm of Krynn.'." She gave him a prod with the breadstick, laughing. Branchala smiled good naturedly at the fond memory, but his patience was slipping, and the smile faded when she tried to dance on the table.

"Sit down," he ordered. "And be good. We're going to talk about what to do with your children and Tasslehoff, or have you forgotten already?" This sobered the excited goddess considerably, and she silently dropped back into her seat without anymore displays. Sighing, Branchala fell back into his own chair. He felt as though he'd slapped her, and regretted snapping so uncharacteristically. However, they had precious little time to get everything done, and that meant no more bouts of leisure and relaxation. He had been loathed to admit that to himself.

"You mentioned the cousins," Dreamflight pointed out, munching on her breadstick and keeping her voice low. Branchala nodded, flipping a coin onto the table from which she had acquired the snack before ordering some wine for himself. "And you don't know where exactly anyone else is?" He shook his head, returning a lady's bracelet that had magically appeared at their table. Dreamflight sighed heavily, letting the bread dangle in her hand at her side.

"If we get you home, we might break that curse on you," Branchala mused, trying to keep the conversation optimistic. Dreamflight's eyes widened in awe.

"I'm cursed? Wow! I've never been cursed before! Funny, I don't feel different… Am I going to turn into a lemon at noon or something?" At this point, people who had been listening in on the conversation hastily shoveled the rest of their food in their mouth, paid their bill, and hurried out of the inn. Those who hadn't been listening took this as a sign and followed suit. A cursed kender was probably contagious.

Branchala pushed his chair back, balancing on the back legs, and sipped his elven imported wine. Dreamflight continued to rattle on about the joys and ills of being cursed. She did not stop until, upon catching her breath and glancing around the room, noticed that the place was completely empty. Even the innkeeper wasn't to be seen. Branchala chuckled at her confused look.

"You certainly know how to clear a room, my dear Dreams," he laughed, lifting his glass in a toast to her. Dreamflight, while still puzzled, beamed back and decided that whatever had happened, it was in her favor. Branchala smiled, draining the last of his wine with the tip of his head and rose to stand until a deep, feminine voice spoke, "Sit down, Branchala." Branchala froze just an instant until turning around. Dreamflight remained sitting, staring somberly at those before her, and berating herself for having not paid closer attention to her surroundings to notice anything.

Chislev stood poised at the doorway, leaned back on the frame; her arms crossed with a fire in her eyes. Behind her, Reorx held tightly to his war hammer and stared sadly back at Dreamflight and Morgion stood as stoic as stone to the side of him.

"What's the meaning of this?" Branchala asked, feeling something unpleasant about the air around the gods. Morgion moved ahead, blotting out the two neutral gods. He lifted a hand pointed straight to Dreamflight, directly at her heart. Dreamflight shivered, not in fear, but repulsion. She never favored the god of disease or the god of death, for dead things did not dream.

"I believe you know exactly why we are here," he replied in a rolling, sepulchral voice. "Traitor." Branchala clenched a fist, fuming silently. He dared not make a move just yet – the stakes were too high to make any careless mistakes. "You and the other gods of 'good'… But what is 'good' now? We were on the losing side of Chaos before. This time, we will not displease him. So, god of good, life, music… You and your brethren are the rebels now. How does that feel?" Branchala moved in front of Dreamflight protectively. She frowned, displeased at his blocking her view, and hopped of her chair, clung to his hand, and peeked around him to watch.

"Why should we just hand her over?" Branchala argued. "He shut her away once and he will do it again. With her out of the way, there is no one to oppose him. We were lucky once, I wouldn't dare want to test our luck again. You would cast away our only champion?"

"This is not our war," Chislev intoned, fiery passions making her words resonate. "We're tired of this fighting. Let them destroy each other so we may live in peace on both of the worlds to do as we may."

"I thought the neutral gods were just that," Branchala growled. "How silly me to make assumptions."

"There is a balance in how many side with Chaos and how many side with Dreams," Reorx interjected. He glanced back to Dreamflight and nearly shriveled in her glare. He did not enjoy what he was doing, but it was necessary. No more would he endanger his life by risking the ire of Chaos. Looking back to Branchala, he added gently, "I think you are letting your feelings cloud your better judgement."

Branchala glowered, his voice filled with menace. "Get out of here…" In the midst of the verbal fight, Dreamflight began to look at the exits longingly. She did not wish to see her family, divine family, harmed or harming each other. What made it worse, was that this was all her fault. She felt something inside of her shrivel and writhe, crying out in despair. Branchala frowned and shoved her suddenly, causing her to nearly trip. "Go, Dreams. Go!" Dreamflight glanced back at him, felt the magic in the room flare as the gods prepared to battle. Her heart quailed in grief, but she took Branchala's advice and ran out through the back exit.

The two neutral gods stepped forward, prepared to pursue, but were forced to stop there as a bolt of lightning struck the ground at their feet. Frowning, they turned their attention to the enraged elf.

"You have to go through me to get to her."

Morgion smirked as Reorx and Chislev stood to either side of him, preparing their own opening attack. Branchala muttered a curse and wished he had his powerful harp, rather than the emergency flute. "It is three to one, Branchala. You must be mad."

Branchala smiled grimly, lifting the flute to his lips but not yet playing another note. "I'm not mad." A mischievous glint entered his eyes, causing the three to step back for it looked much like the glint of true insanity. "I'm just the god of kender."

Dreamflight ran into the woods, considered Chislev, and ran back to the road. She ran and flew in intervals, leaving many bewildered travelers to stare after her. She made as much haste as she could before the burning muscles in her wings and sides became too much and she had to stop, falling to her knees, to catch her breath, coughing and choking on the dust of the road. When at last she could draw a good, clean breath, she lay back and wondered about Branchala's fate. Again, she felt something inside of her squirm painfully.

Around the time she was beginning to get truly worried, he staggered out of a portal, which he hastily shut again. Dreamflight leapt up and ran to his side, unable to hold him up, but easing him to the ground. "Branchala!" He groaned in reply. She examined his wounds – strange burn marks on his skin in various places, jagged cuts and inflamed red spots, and a broken leg. The bone felt shattered and he cried out when she touched it. Dreamflight administered the best first aid that she could, trying to lessen his pain and gauging the success of so off of the volume of his moans. Tears stung her eyes as she work, and a feeling of uselessness prevailed.

"No wonder the mortals curse the gods," she sniffed, fanning him cool with her wings. "If I were in my immortal form I could just heal you and make it all better." She flung her arms across his chest gently, making him wince. "I'm so sorry I got you into this! All of you!" A faint light shimmered on the other side of Branchala and Mishakel appeared, gazing at them dolefully.

"The choice was his," she murmured, pulling Dreamflight from Branchala's prone form. "It was all of ours. Fear not, gentle Dreams. Mother of Creation, and Sister of Chaos." Dreamflight hiccupped and Mishakel smiled warmly at her before bending down to administer her healing touch. "He will be fine."

Tasslehoff sat shivering in the darkness. In front of him stood Tanis, beckoning and muttering soothing words. He didn't believe it was real. For a while now he'd been taunted with these illusions of loved ones.

"Tas! Help!" Tas shivered again and shut his eyes, but the same scene was imprinted on the back of his eyelids. It must have been quite a while now. Time in the Abyss wasn't constant. Five minutes could pass here while five years fly by outside. It worked in reverse, as well. Five minutes could feel like five years. The latter was what had happened to Tas. It had felt like his body was being ripped apart for eternity. Now, longer still, were these illusions. At first he had been ready to believe them. He'd run to these life like visions of his family and friends – flung his arms around them only to be greeted with air or something unpleasant. Quite a few times he'd just run straight into a wall, banging his nose and head badly. When he'd finally accepted that they weren't real, he was forced to watch their pain. Now he had the choice of either willingly fooling himself over and over or being forced to watch their artificial, albeit chillingly convincing, suffering. Takhisis had learned much by watching the creation of the afflicted kender.

Tas shut his eyes tighter, unable to blot out the inevitable. Tears streamed down his cheeks as Tanis's agonizing screams filled his mind.

Takhisis and Chaos watched. "…Then you must break the mind…"


	7. All On Their Own

The three gods raveled silently abreast the road. Mishakel strode with her hands clasped solemnly around a nondescript brown walking staff, her head bowed so that her hair hid her eyes and face well enough. The chill wind blowing sent her white robes billowing around her ankles. Dreamflight had, upon the start of their march, adopted the half skip kender trail walk, which she now abandoned. The moods of her companions dampened the natural spring in her step, and so now she walked quietly, brooding. Branchala, healed of his vicious wounds, all but stomped forward. His elven and inherent grace saved him, converting the anger into a brisk stride that Dreamflight had trouble keeping up with. His jaw was rigid, and his right hand was clenched in fury. Dreamflight began prattling about some adventure this scenario reminded her of. Neither of the other gods paid her any attention, but she continued simply to hear the sound of her own voice.

"You are restless, Branchala," Mishakel spoke a length. Branchala kept his eyes straight ahead. "I hope you are not planning to throw yourself in a hopeless battle again. I may not be on hand to heal you." This time Branchala did stop, turned and frowned at the two goddesses. Dreamflight stopped short and tried to look innocent, wondering if she was the cause of his ill mood.

Branchala's eyes flared with an inner fire as he spoke. "Do you want them to get her, Mishakel?" He made an emphatic gesture to Dreamflight, who sighed and wished she could disappear. This was, inadvertently, her fault. "There was nothing else that I could have done to ensure her safety, considering the curse!" A thought occurred to him and he addressed Dreamflight in no less of a severe tone. "Why haven't you broken it yet? We can all tell that it was Chaos who cast it. You, if not anyone else, should be able to break it."

"If I were in my realm, in an immortal body, I could flick my hand and make it go away," Dreamflight replied petulantly, closing her wings about herself. "But if I could do that, there would be no problem in the first place." Branchala tossed up his hands and grumbled something inarticulate.

"It was still reckless," sighed Mishakel, drawing Branchala's attention back to his previous point. "No matter. It seems all of our plans, no matter how carefully laid, are falling apart and being blown to the winds. This always happens when we deal with Chaos. Even my son, nephew, and niece-"

"What about them?" Dreamflight asked suddenly. She recalled what Branchala had said in the Inn back at the port town. "They're with my children, right?" Mishakel shook her head, loathe to be the bearer of bad news. Dreamflight made a strangled sound in her throat, thinking the worst had befallen her kin.

"The gods of magic were attacked as well," Mishakel said in nearly apologetic tones. Dreamflight looked away, covered her eyes with her hands. Mishakel understood her grief at last and was quick to rectify her statement. "They were forced to leave your children behind. Have no worry, be thankful even, that your children are safe and blissfully unaware at the moment that they've been laid open without protection."

"Do you know where my babies are?" Dreamflight whimpered, mollified slightly with the knowledge that they were still well. She clutched the goddess of healing's sleeve. "Can you tell me? What about Tas? What do you know?" Mishakel stroked back the topknot of Dreams and pat her cheek soothingly.

"Last I had heard from my son, your children were still scattered. Firespice is in Panthalas, Crentha is in Solace, and Loki is in Wayreth at the tower as an honored guest." This seemed to brighten Dreamflight's spirits, calm her turmoil. She even smiled at the idea of the fun the three kenderkin must be having. Mishakel glanced away and barely muttered the rest of the answer. "Nobody knows of the whereabouts or fate of Tasslehoff, however." Dreamflight released Mishakel's sleeve, the smile faded, and lapsed into a deep and brooding silence.

"She doesn't think he is dead," Mishakel noted, watching the kender's reaction carefully. "She wonders where he is, and what she can do to get there. Ah, Dreams, we've all been wondering…"

Branchala had been watching Dreamflight's reaction as well, and knelt before the silent maid. He reached out with his delicate hands and took her own, squeezing them softly until the tenseness melted from her touch. He waited, patiently, until she looked up and the two locked gazes.

"Tia Paes, thaes byr," Branchala muttered in one of the countless tongues he knew. Dreamflight held his gaze, taking a moment to let his words sink into her mind and transform themselves into Common. This achieved she gave a little nod to indicate he should continue. "Eir shor shi tadi vol eindral" He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, pressing her soft flesh gently. "Ai vystori."

(Translation: My Dream, fear not. All will be made right again. I promise.)

Dreamflight smiled wanly at him, touched by his kind words. Her eyes remained dulled, worried. Sighing, Branchala kissed her forehead and rose to his feet. "I need to know what's going on. I'll be leaving to scout out a few places. We need to know who's on our side and who is actively plotting against us, and what it is that everyone is after. The more we find out, the better."

"No!" Dreamflight cried out, throwing her arms around his waist and clinging to him. "Don't leave me, Branchala! I need your friendship and guidance… What will I do on my own?" Branchala pat her gently.

"You will seek your children, Dreams. Wayreth is closest, and I am sure that you could find the tower if you really wanted to." Dreamflight nodded, stepped back from him, and fell silent once more.

"We will keep an eye on you," Mishakel added quickly, feeling a need to console the grief struck kender. She made a vague upward motion. "From home." Dreamflight nodded dully. "If you are attacked, someone will come to help you." Again, Dreamflight nodded. She didn't enjoy the idea of having someone to come run to her rescue all the time, but she knew better than to reject such a warm gesture of love and help. She embraced both the gods warmly, watching as they stepped back and faded away. The wind picked up once more, bringing a few stray snowflakes with its currents. Dreamflight hugged her arms against the biting chill, sighed, and continued in the direction of Wayreth alone.

* * *

Loki was led into a room farther down the tower, closer to the ground levels. He found the descent quite fun, speculating on what it would be like to slide down the wooden banisters, but was quickly advised against this. Now they stood before a very large iron door. Justarius lifted the huge iron knocker and let it fall with a clang. The doors, despite the appearance of their size and weight, were thrown open. A very short mage, donning grayish white robes, peered at the group as smoke and steam poured into the hallway from the dark and foreboding dormitory.

"Greetings, Oedison," Justarius replied curtly. "Carrying on with your experiments? Good, good." Justarius spoke quickly, not allowing the quick tongued Oedison to get a word in edgewise. "I request a favor of you, Oedison." Justarius reached behind himself, grabbing Loki by the collar as he was just about to walk off, and dragged the kender forward. Oedison gave a snort of surprise.

"What's a kender doing in the tower?" he inquired. He spoke quickly, not so much as his gnome parent, but enough to give the impression he was in a great deal of a hurry and whatever you had to say had better be darn important.

"He is an honored guest here," Justarius answered, his voice slightly taut and his tone turning sour with impatience. "If you have a qualm, speak with Ladonna. This is her insistence. In the meantime, it has been decided unanimously that you and Vansal will entertain our little friend. I will be sending Vansal to join you both shortly." Oedison muttered on his breath quickly, making veiled comments and threats that he was sure Justarius probably heard and cared little of. He felt put upon, worst – insulted, but knew better than to argue with an Order head, even if it wasn't his own Par-Salian. Chances are he would be terribly reprimanded by all three order heads, and Par-Salian to boot. With a cordial bow, Oedison reached forth and snatched Loki's hand, dragging him into his chambers.

Loki caught his balance and looked around; eyes squinted in the darkness of the room. There were all sorts of gadgets laying strewn about on the floor, shelves, tabletops, and any other bare inch of space. The experiments considered 'complete' were displayed in dusty glass cases for display on the higher shelves. All the other incomplete pieces lay in haphazard order. Oedison shut his massive door with a crank, making the solid thud reverberate in the room. Loki jumped at the noise. Oedison wheeled towards Loki, his dislike open and honest.

"Now you listen here," Oedison started, shaking a finger at the kender and speaking in the scolding tones of a parent. "Don't talk to me, don't ask me things, and don't TOUCH anything. If you can do that, we will get along just fine."

"What am I supposed to do then?" Loki asked, slightly offended by an undeserved admonishment from a complete stranger. He was about to make a formal introduction to rectify the stranger part, but Oedison crossed his arms and averted his gaze.

"Sit down and look at things," he muttered, and turned to resume his tinkering. Loki found a spare stool in a corner, dragging it noisily over the stone floor to a more suitable position. Next, he took the nuts and bolts that rested on it, examining them with mild interest. He was reminded of the gnome sleigh bolt that his older brother had from a Yule experience years and years ago. Shrugging, a few of the bolts falling into his pouches, he dropped the most of them on the floor and took a seat. Irritated beyond belief, the half gnome turned slowly and glowered at Loki for the noise created.

"You told me to sit down, but I can't sit on a bunch of bolts in a dirty old corner," Loki said with a reproachful look. The mage lifted a pudgy finger, narrowed his eyes, and was about to launch into a tirade. Lucky for Loki, a knock resonated from the door, which consequently sent many of the half finished experiments off in a cacophony of whistles, screeches, and other interestingly gnomish noises. Here and there lights flared up from a magical reaction as well. Loki clung to the edge of his stool and watched it all with delight, giggling joyfully. Steam and smoke filled the room as Oedison stomped over to his door and pulled it open with the crank.

"Hello, Oedison," a soft, mellow voice rang out in an interesting contrast to the noise of the laboratory. Loki tried to see who had arrived, but was forced to wait patiently for the air to clear. When it did, he was rewarded o see a very tall white-robed elf looking around with a dreamy expression. "Justarius asked I come here to keep company with a guest." His roving gaze fell on Loki, but the kind expression did no change. Loki grinned back until he noticed something about the elf. He held something in his hand that made the kender's gaze lock unwaveringly on it. "Is this him?"

"Aye," Oedison grumped. "Keep him busy and out of my hair!" Without another word, the half gnome mage hurried off to tend to his mechanisms with love and care. Vansal strode over to Loki, pulling up a second stool that was much too small for the elf. The sight was ludicrous to behold, but the effect was lost on Loki, who continued staring at the elf's hand.

"Hello," Vansal said simply, watching Loki carefully. "My name is Vansal."

"I'm Loki Burrfoot," Loki murmured, transfixed. He held out a hand out of habit, which Vansal shook lightly. Vansal followed his gaze to his hand and the thing he held. It was a dark ashen flute, lovingly carved and beautifully designed by his own elven hands. The ebony flue that Nuitari had conjured for Loki had disappeared, and Loki longed to feel his one in his hands. Vansal smiled.

"Do you like it?" he inquired wistfully. Loki nodded. "I don't like parting with it for any length of time. I was a bard before I became a mage, you know, and my heart still aches for music as much as for magic." Loki nodded, distracted, daydreaming. Vansal hesitated – it was obvious that Loki wanted to handle the flute. He appeared to be a dreamer, much like Vansal. Vansal was loathed to simply hand over his favored instrument, for he was not ignorant to the nature of kender. However, unlike most of his brethren, he was tolerant of kender and eager to feed the flames of music lust where it lay dormant or smothered. Giving a quick prayer to Solinari and Branchala that he had not judged wrong, Vansal handed the flute to Loki.

Immediately the kender brought the polished wood to his lips and began to play. Vansal had o shut his eyes, for the notes swelled in his heart and soothed his soul with their beauty and clarity. He became utterly amazed, and even Oedison paused, tools in one hand and a spell scroll in another, to listen.

"You and I will get along very well, kenderkin. I think that I have a few things I can teach you about the ways of bards…"

* * *

Firespice walked the streets of Panthalas, tired and hungry. He was beginning to gain a familiarity with the city, which pleased his fantasies of this birth home. However, he was still in miserable spirits. He'd spent the last of what little money he'd had on some food and one night in the Inn a few nights previously. When Solinari never returned on the day of their parting, Firespice took another day to tour on his own. There was much worth seeing and now he had ample time to stroll at his leisure. The kender came to the realization that perhaps Solinari had deserted him here after another night passed without the god returning to the Inn – or any inn. Tired out, he wandered into the temple to Paladine where he was greeted with surprising warmth from two older kender clerics of Mishakel, both in curiously high ranking positions of the temple's hierarchy. They clucked and cooed at seeing him, fawning with care over Firespice and calling themselves his long lost aunts. He found out later the next day that they had been the clerics who had delivered him on the fateful night of the war. They were extremely thankful to his mother, for they'd had nothing but extraordinary luck since then, falling high in Mishakel's favor, and were happy to repay her through charity to the charming son. He'd been given a place to sleep and some food, but Firespice could not keep himself cooped up in the temple all day long. After a few days had exhausted his search of the place, he'd decided to strike out into the city during the days on his own. The problem with this, was that he did not remember the way back to the temple and most of the citizens did not want to help him out with directions. He almost regretted his situation now, and his stomach more so.

"Maybe I could pay someone back for some service," Firespice thought, eyeing a basket of apples. During his trips to Kendermore with his parents, he'd found that kender would often take the wares one day and repay the vendor with something later. It was a good system that never failed, for the vendor invariably wound up asking to borrow something anyways. Wondering if Panthalas worked the same, he gave in to hunger and grabbed a few apples, assuring the vendor he would pay him back after he found his way back to the temple.

"Stop! Stop that kender thief!"

Hearing the clank of swords on armor, Firespice decided that, once again, Panthalas wasn't much like Kendermore, and took off fleeing down the streets. He enjoyed the merry chase, making it last for a surprisingly long time. The nimble and lithe kender was able to navigate the streets with agility and cleverness that the guards would later give grudging respect to. However, their seniority and familiarity won out and before long, Firespice was bound and gagged, being marched down the streets at sword point to go sit in their jail.

"At least they'll have food," Firespice thought with a smile.

* * *

Tasslehoff had been left alone for some time now. He didn't know for how long and he didn't particularly care. Once he had found the endless grey of the Abyss boring – now he would have happily sat here for all of eternity to let his mind and body heal from the vicious wounds that they had suffered. He only dared to entertain one thought in his head, finding out that Takhisis and Chaos could read his mind like a book, and that was that his wife and family were well and safe. He'd dared not hope for a rescue from them; he did not want his family here anyways.

"Perhaps because they have me they won't harm my family anymore… Maybe they can all live in peace for once."

All too soon he felt Takhisis's presence and that of Chaos as well. Tas didn't even bother to lift his head in acknowledgement to their coming.

"I ask you again to pledge yourself to my service," Takhisis stated flatly. Tas thought of his wife lovingly and said nothing, heart aching. After a long silence, Takhisis spoke again. "Your kender wife is an illusion, you pathetic worm. No goddess would, nor should, devote her life to a mortal. Already, she has returned to her former lover, and has forgotten you completely." As jerked his head up, glaring at the awful form of Takhisis. An insult and denial on his lips, it was then that Takhisis lay her final assault on the battered kender.

Images of Dreamflight and Branchala flashed before Tasslehoff's eyes. Dreamflight being cradled and sung to. The pair watching a sunset from a ship together, standing as close and intimate as lovers. Branchala stroking her face and hair. Tas watched it all with wide, unblinking eyes.

As Takhisis continued his assault, she spoke softly to Chaos, "The last thing left to break, father dear, is the spirit. After that, they are yours." Chaos said nothing, merely watched.

Branchala's voice speaking strange words resonated through the Abyss, ringing loudly in Tas's mind. Tas did not know the language, and so Takhisis simply said, "He is pledging his eternal love for her. 'Since your waking, I myself have been lost in an endless dream.'" It was something the romantic, sappy god would say. The visage of Branchala kissing Dreamflight on the forehead paused, froze, and hovered unendingly before Tas's eyes.

"Do you now oppose to serving me? You are pained. I give you the chance to deliver a blow back to those who have wronged you so deeply."

Takhisis was, in a way, wrong. Tas was not in pain. He was cold, through and through, to the point his body and mind became numb. His heart was so cold that it burned terribly in his chest, and his throat dried and constricted. He never knew a pain so terrible in his whole life. Never knew anything so awful. His mind, senses, everything shut down as the noble spirit wavered and then fell to the might of the goddess. Tas looked at Takhisis and fell to one knee before her. "…My Queen…"

In the background, Chaos smiled. Everything was ready. Their plans were now going to be put into motion.

"_The time has come for the dream to turn to a nightmare."_


	8. Loki the Bard

The march to Wayreth was long, and lonely. It was not to say that Dreamflight entirely hated and loathed it – despite the sinister means that spurred her this far, a kender through, she enjoyed the scenery and meeting new people very much. She even got to enjoy the company of her kin! Briefly, another young kendermaiden joined her on the road. She was a nice young girl named Daffysprig, just beginning her own wanderlust. The younger kender was drawn to Dreamflight in fascination of her wings, voice, and the bountiful stories she had to tell. Their friendship was brief, however, and Daffysprig wound up wandering away in the dead of night a few days after their meeting. Under normal circumstances, Dreamflight would have pursued her new friend to see what had caught the interest of the kendermaiden's eye, but Dreamflight's mission took precedence over all other curiosities. So, with a heavy heart, Dreamflight once again struck out on her own.

By the time she had snuck into Qualinesti borders, snow was thick on the ground and the cold airs of Snowfun howled at her. She pressed on, night and day, knowing that the elves would easily track her by the prints she left in the snow. She wouldn't have been surprised if they already knew her presence in their sacred homeland, and wondered at how they felt, even after all these years, about her escape. Elves can hold grudges for a long, long time.

"It's not that I don't want to see them," she said to herself aloud. It was a habit she was developing again. "It's just that I want to see my son far more." As it were, she knew that finding the elusive Wayreth forest would prove tricky. She'd been storing her slow accumulation of divine magic for a couple months now, and knew well she could cast something strong at her whim. But what? Wayreth's enchantments were divine in origin as well, and that would be a harder brand of spell to counter than if she were merely facing an archmage. With this in mind, she spent as much strength trying to find the tower on foot. With a little luck, she reasoned, she wouldn't need to expend her magic. This idea pleased her because she had been storing it so she might break her wretched curse.

After three more days of endless marching, she muttered a hopeful chant to herself. "Maybe they forgot to move tonight. Maybe they left the door unlocked." She stopped walking and stood knee-deep in snow in the middle of the forest, teeth chattering so loudly as to nearly drown out the shriek of wind. This was twice now the snow had been her bane. She made a little note in the back of her head to convince Tasslehoff, when this was all over, to move with her somewhere very nice and warm. Year round. She was desperately tired, and knew she must rest soon. Even the spirit of an optimistic kender couldn't sustain the body forever. With a resigned sigh, she sat in the snow and shut her eyes, biting her lip to ignore the needle-like cold, and let her mind feed and fuel off the divine magic of her soul. Soon she felt a floating sensation, as though drifting away from her body and her spirit's hand reached out blindly for her home. She felt a brush of a response – twice – three times.

"Please, let me in," she thought to the ones that, for now, held her spirit in the realm above the material world. Solinari, Nuitari, and Lunitari smiled at one another. They had just been discussing ways to continue their aid to the beloved Mother of Creation, their pride having been bruised by Chaos. Leave it to Dreams to help them help her.

"Sleep," Solinari bid her in a singsong voice. "You are weary. The forest of Wayreth will shelter you, though you must find your own way into the tower once you awaken." The spirit of Dreams laughed as it began falling back into her mortal body.

"That will not be a problem for me," she replied slyly, casting the three a wink as the last vowel faded in an echo.

When she opened her eyes again, the snow was gone and Wayreth's branches shaded her from a pleasantly warm sun. Excitement filling her, Dreamflight leapt up and beat a path towards the tower that poked over a hill in the distance. She was refreshed, in spirit and body, filled with energy and hope. Her hope diminished slightly when she found the door locked, even though she expected as much. Frowning, remembering what Solinari had said to her, Dreamflight began removing one of the lockpicks Tas had given her as a Life Gift Day present a few years ago. As she tried to select the proper one, a vivid memory occurred to her, rising from her mind like an awful omen. She recalled a story told to her by a friend that spoke of another curious kender who had shoved a lockpick in an arcane protected lock. The mental image caused her to reconsider this course of action. Ruefully, she put the picks away. Leaning her back against the cold stone of the tower, Dreamflight looked up to the sky for some sort of sign. "Now what?" In answer, a mage threw open his window and dumped a pail of dirty water. Dreamflight nimbly jumped out of the way and danced gracefully out of the spray of brown water droplets that flew at her when the water sloshed to the stones.

"Watch where you're throwing that!" she called, but the mage had already retreated, leaving the window wide open to the fresh air and bright sunlight. Dreamflight smiled when she realized this. With an upwards glance, she murmured, "thank you" and flew up.

To her luck, and she seemed to have an abundance today, whoever had been in the room previously vacated it before she'd entered. Landing lightly, Dreamflight crept across the floor and poked her head into the hallway. The coast was clear. But… How would she find Loki?

"No point in wasting time talking to the walls," she mumbled. Besides, she added mentally, in a mage's tower, the walls probably have ears… And mouths, and some other unpleasant things. Seeing that she was in no immediate lines of sight, Dreamflight stepped out of the room and began creeping along the walls, trying to remain serious and stealthy while openly curious all at once.

She pressed flat against the wall as the sound of carpet muffled footsteps approached from around a corner, vehement cursing accompanying. Whoever it was had stopped walking, for the volume ceased to rise even if the string of oaths didn't. Another voice, female and elven, floated on the air just loud enough to be overheard.

"That doesn't sound like any spell chant I've ever heard," the voice said, laughter hiding in the undertones. "Might your string of colorful words be a litany of frustration?"

"Damn your elven ears," a rough, gravelly, male human voice barked. "You'd be cursing too if you needed to go to the dungeon for supplies anymore."

I didn't know the mages had dungeons, Dreamflight mused. I wonder if they test potions on prisoners. The possibilities were endless as gruesome and delightful images alike danced around in her head. She suddenly desired to see this dungeon keenly.

"Really, they're not all that bad, Grisholm," the female purred. "The little one is cute."

"Which one?" the man spat. "The gnomish madman or the thieving little kender?" Dreamflight stiffened at the remark. Not only was an insult but a definite allusion to Loki!

"The kender and Vanyal play beautiful music," the elven voice argued. The human mumbled something incomprehensible and rushed around the corner just then. Dreamflight, although in shadow, was wearing obviously bright and loud clothing. She could only offer up a sheepish smile at the flabbergasted black robed mage. What was that old saying among kender? "Don't change to match the walls. Act like you belong and the walls will change to match you." Stealth hadn't worked, so it was worth a shot.

"What are you just standing there with your mouth open for?" she growled at the mage, trying to create an aura of intimidation. It'd been a long time since she'd yelled at anyone, but being a mother gave her an edge – she hoped. "Take me to Loki Burrfoot this instance!" The mage, mouth agape from seeing another kender openly walking the halls of the tower, flushed an ugly purple red as anger overtook astonishment. Dreamflight saw her error immediately.

"I think I'll take the tour myself!" she called, darting past the mage and down the hall. The black robed followed in close pursuit. And so, Dreamflight led a merry chase down the many hallways in a game of "follow the bouncing topknot", knowing full well that if she didn't find Loki soon, it'd turn into a game of "choke the kender blue".

As she hopped down stairs two at a time in a steady descent, Dreamflight heard faint music that seemed to get louder the farther down she went. Hearing a flute duet, her heart skipped a beat, and it was all she could do to not fall flat on her face at the bottom of the final flight. Catching the sound of unflagging footsteps behind her, Dreamflight was up in a flash and racing over the flagstones towards the sound of music.

"Much better," Vansal complimented, flashing his protégé an approving smile. "You rushed at the end, but I'm glad you're beginning to pace yourself."

"It would sound better played faster," Loki argued, though the remark was feeble, having lost this battle earlier.

"When you're a bard of your own you may play the songs however you like," Vansal reminded him. "Until then, as my pupil, you will play how I tell you to." With a smile to take the sting from his words he added, "Again now."

The industrious half-gnome mage behind them grumbled as he went about his work. He complained vigorously, albeit quietly, of the noise and screeching flutes, though often caught himself tapping his foot in time while the two bards weren't looking. He'd test his automated spell flinger on himself before he would admit to the elf's skills and the kender's own growing ones. Still, he found himself looking forward to the next refrain until a frantic pounding on the door jarred his thoughts and set off a dozen reactions from the junk pile.

"I'm coming!" the mage snapped, stomping over to the door lever. Loki and Vansal had paused playing and watched the door expectantly, normally amused by the reaction most of the other mages wore when they had to come down here and fetch something. Neither had anticipated the whirl of colorful clothing, the jangle of many pouches spilling their contents, or the sworn oaths as black robes came crashing in after the colorful blur, both landing on the whistling junk pile. Loki peered through the mist and dust that'd been triggered. The smaller figure picked herself up and darted over to him, throwing her arms around his body and planting kisses on his cheeks and forehead. He tried to disentangle himself.

"Loki!"

Loki's eyes nearly popped out of his head with recognition. "Mother!" Now he happily returned the embrace and nestled lovingly against her bosom, falling back into the comfortable role of child once more. In the background, Oedison and the Grisholm argued fervently, Vansal watching it all unravel with mounting amusement.

"It's bad enough we've got one of the vermin in the castle," Grisholm spat. "Must we take in his whole wretched family too?" Dreamflight scowled at the mage as she clutched her son protectively. She considered him lucky that she'd spent her magic already otherwise Oedison would have a new charred spot on his floor.

"Get out of my room," the half-gnome sputtered indignantly. "The kender are my business! If you have such a problem with them, take it up with Ladonna!"

This seemed to effectively cow the mage, and he skulked out muttering under his breath. Oedison slammed the door shut, as well as possible, and whirled around to glare at the kender with a vengeful eye.

"What is the meaning of all this!"

Loki piped up enthusiastically. "Oedison, Vansal, I'd like you both to meet my mother."

With the black robed mage gone, Dreamflight felt more at ease with the present company. She dipped into a polite curtsey. "Dreamflight Burrfoot." Vansal rose from his stool and bowed politely.

"Vansal Kerthus," he replied, then shot a glance at Oedison to follow suit. The stubborn gnome-mage merely threw his hands in the air as though reaching for some divine assistance. Loki turned his attention back to Dreamflight.

"What are you doing here?" he inquired. "How did you find me? Where are the others? Are they okay? Did a dragon find them?" His eyes widened. "Did a dragon eat them?" Dreamflight emphatically shook her head and Loki relaxed. "A god found me, but he didn't eat me. He brought me here." Dreamflight placed a hand on the head of her excited son to calm him.

"There's something Tas and I haven't told you kids," she began. "Something I never intended for you to know. However, my past has a nasty habit of popping up unexpectedly no matter how much I try to avoid it." Loki, who had never heard his mother talk like this before, leaned in eagerly to catch every word. Vansal and Oedison too listened attentively – but only because they'd never heard of a kender keeping a secret longer than five moments.

"How to put this lightly?" Dreamflight mumbled. With a deep breath, she shifted her hands to Loki's shoulders and stared him in the eyes. "Son… I am a goddess." Oedison's eyebrows nearly shot off his head, and Vansal began choking on his withheld breath. Loki stared in awe, breathless, never doubting.

"Now wait one moment here!" roared the elderly mage. Oedison snatched Dreamflight by the wrist and held her tight. "There'll be noblashphemywithinmyroomdoyouhearme? Ineedallthehelpthegodscangiveme. Iwon'thaveyouforcingthemtohurlafierymountainonthistower!"

Vansal, while distressed, handled the situation much calmer. In his melodious voice he recited the incantation to one of his many spells, touched his eyes and looked back at Dreamflight while the half-gnome continued to sputter too quickly to be heard. What Vansal saw was radiance so bright he was forced to squeeze his eyes until tears sprang at the corners.

"Oedison!" he gasped. "I cast true seeing. She… Speaks the truth!" Oedison's mouth fell open; he didn't doubt the powerful elf's words by the tone they were spoken in. Quickly, the gnome snatched back his hand as if touching hot coals and fell to his knees.

"Forgiveness!" Oedison cried out. Dreamflight rolled her eyes.

"This is why I don't go around telling people," she explained to the open-mouthed Loki. "I hope you won't do the same. By technicality, you are a half-celestial – even if it doesn't show." She waved a finger in front of her son's nose. "And don't think this makes you better than everyone else!" She glanced back at the other two members of her audience. "Oh, stop that you two." They stopped quickly.

"I'm not sure what to say," breathed Loki at last. "Could you tell me more?" Dreamflight smiled, snatched a stool, and launched into the story from the beginning. "Once upon a time, I saw your father on another world…"

A couple hours later, her tale complete, Dreamflight slumped in her seat, her throat itching and tongue tired.

"Now what?" was all Loki could say. He had many questions, but trusted his mother had told him all she could.

"Now I take you and we go to find your sister," Dreamflight explained. Loki averted his gaze and fidgeted in his seat. "…Loki?"

"I love you Mom," he sighed. "And I really miss Crentha, Firespice, and Dad, but… You see, if I leave, then I can't get anymore lessons from Vansal. He's a great teacher! I've made a lot of progress on my flute too." Vansal smiled at the compliments.

"Your son has bardic blood in him," the elf remarked. "True natural talent!" Dreamflight smiled and swelled in motherly pride as Loki blushed modestly.

"Uncle Bacher would be proud," she murmured, affectionately pressing her hand against his flushed cheek. "I know I am." She smoothed his hair delicately with her fingertips and Loki detected an air of sadness surrounding them. There was a definite feel of finality to this all, and even his boyant spirit felt weighted by the things he didn't understand. "Take good care of yourself, Loki. You're still my baby boy." Quickly, she leaned over and her lips made brushing contact with his forehead. In the same movement, Dreamflight pivoted on her heel and walked for the door, which Oedison scrambled to get open.

"Mother?" Loki called out tentatively. "Where are you going?"

She cast a smile over her shoulder at him. "Solace."

Elsewhere, on some nameless level of the Abyss, a hoopak with a gold tipped spear end sung as it flew in the air and thudded without error into the target. Almost interceptably fast, two hands snapped knives seemingly out of thin air and accompanied the hoopak in the deadly flight, landing perfectly in unison and in formation.

"He is better than I expected," the dark queen purred delightedly. Her pleasure was stolen at the stony silence of the brooding figure next to her. "Isn't it as you wish?"

Chaos said nothing, merely turned away. Takhisis fumed silently, outraged that he wasn't pleased with her work. But she knew enough to keep her fury in check.

Little did she know that Chaos was admiring her work, though silently. He was admiring everything she'd done so far. But he also kept an eye on the motions of Paladine and all of the Pantheon of good. Hiding his smile, he thought of the irony of it all and then turned and watched Tasslehoff, his bane, hone his skills for the moment he would confront Dreams.

Again, Chaos smiled at the irony of it all.


	9. Plans in Motion

Clad in work clothes that Tika had bought for her, Crentha bounced from table to table happily, carrying a tray that held empty mugs and a refill pitcher. The locals of the bar treated her kindly and fondly, finding to their relief that whatever fell into her hands was easily removed with no hard feelings from either end. The travelers regarded her as all people regard kender – very carefully. Tika and Caramon, busy with their own chores, kept one eye on her at all times, but after a few months of having her live with them, learned when to be wary and when not to be. Crentha saw an elderly man wave her over. Smiling, she managed to skip to the patron while retaining the balance of the mugs.

"The Inn of the Last Home has always been known for its pretty barmaidens," the elderly man remarked with a smile. Crentha giggled with delight while refilling the man's mug. Winking, the elder slipped a coin into her palm during the exchange. "Buy yourself a treat, little one." Her eyes bright, Crentha turned to show off her gift to Tika, but was rudely interrupted as a young, fat man grabbed her arm.

"I'll give ye more than a coin for a little personal time," he slurred, his breath heavy with the stench of ale. He winked at her and smiled in a grotesque manner, giving the young kendermaiden a smack on the rear with his greasy hand. Caramon hastened to teach the man some manners, but Crentha solved the matter quite adequately on her own. Still smiling pleasantly, she lifted a stone mug from her tray and nonchalantly clunked the grinning drunk over the head. The man's grin remained fixed and frozen on her, until he slumped over his table, much to the joy of the people who had been sitting in tables near his.

"Daddy would be displeased," she sighed, shrugging. "But I don't think you're my type anyways." She set her tray of mugs down, intent on cleaning up the mess at his table, but instead her fingers began poking into various pockets. In the background, Tika laughed and clapped proudly. Caramon took the patron's bill from the amount of goodies Crentha managed to acquire, then picked up his squirming niece.

"Very good," he chuckled, setting her back down near the door. "I think you've done enough today, Crentha. Why don't you run along and go play with the other children?"

"Okay, Uncle Caramon!" she chirped enthusiastically, singing to herself as she unstrung her apron and strolled out of the Inn. A few of the people nearest to the door leaned over in an attempt to hear the melodious voice as it faded away.

Tika watched her husband dispense of the unconscious drunk and resumed her chores. "She's going to have many more suitors like that before long." Caramon scowled and dusted off his hands, walking back to his wife. "She's very pretty for a kender."

Caramon picked up a rag and began wiping down a table. "Running off ruffian boys is Tasslehoff's job," he replied gruffly. "She's his daughter, after all." Tika set a dish in the sink noisily, indicating her irritation and giving her husband the dreaded Look.

"Unless he or Dreamflight shows up soon, she may well become our responsibility." Caramon remained silent. Tika had a point, but that wasn't what was bothering him. He found Crentha to be a delightful distraction in their lives, and would have done anything for his old kender friend, including taking care of Crentha. It was the prospect that perhaps neither Tas nor Dreamflight were ever going to show up again that made him somber.

Crentha didn't run off and play as her Uncle had advised. She wanted to put her tip to good use, and was trying to decide which store to spend her coin in. Candy sounded good at the moment, and she knew that there would be fresh taffy today. Smiling and exuberant, she sang and skipped along the tree paths.

"Your one true love's a sailing ship…" It was her favorite song. She didn't quite understand what it meant, but her father had taught it to her – one of the few songs that he knew and her bardic mother didn't – and since she first heard his clear alto voice sing it proudly on her first family outing it always made her feel warm and good inside. Only now, it made her think of her family. Her loneliness for them stole the spring from her step and the song from her lips until she was standing still on a tree bridge, staring moodily out at the sky.

"Don't stop." A male voice behind her pleaded with a quavering, nervous tone. There was also a touch of breaking in the youth's voice. "Please, keep singing." Crentha spun around and eyed the gangly youth before her. He was, in years her age though already he towered a good two feet above her. He had messy, dirty blonde hair that kept falling raggedly into his eyes, and clothes that were at least a size too big for his wiry frame. Wide, brown eyes stared at her for a moment, and then began darting anywhere else.

"Jeremy?" In the three months she'd been in Solace, Crentha had come to learn the names of all her peers by heart. "Did you really enjoy it all that much?"

Jeremy bit his lip and scuffed a mud caked shoe bashfully. Hesitantly, he nodded. Crentha smiled, fluffed her wings in pride, and banished her morose thoughts from her head at the moment. Leaning against the rope handrail of the bridge, she face the heart of Solace and broke into song. "That anchors at our pier…"

Before long, a crowd had gathered and Crentha was forced to sing on the ground in order to accommodate for them all. She was just finishing her second encore, bowing with a flourish as the crowd of Solace villagers cheered in delight.

"Solace has a bard all to itself!" a young mother observed. Others broke into louder cheering at the remark, though Crentha flushed and fidgeted modestly.

"I don't want to be a bard. I'm in love with music, but," she sighed, "I want to be a cleric."

Jeremy's voice, adolescent squeaks ignored, rang energetically, "I'll take you to Panthalas, and you can be a cleric there!" He sighed dreamily. "Solamnia, anywhere you'd like to go. Just as long as you serenade me the whole way." Crentha blinked in surprised at his sudden outbursts of jubilance and exaltation. He had listened to her songs since his request to sing, and her voice had inspired something heroic in him. "Say the word and I shall carry you off to give you your fondest desires!"

Crentha blushed and thanked him, wondering why the normally awkward teen was suddenly making these romantic proclamations. From the throng around the kendermaiden, a voice rose above the rest.

"Song is a powerful tool, isn't it, my dear?" Crentha shut her eyes and shivered. She had longed to hear that voice, heard it call to her in her dreams, warm and comforting, when she had been so lonely. Turning, she looked towards the source, and muffled a cry of excitement when a hoopak pushed people aside politely for Ceria to step forward. Crentha threw herself into the arms of her mother.

"Mom!" she gasped. "How long have you been here?" The crowd, seeing the reunion as a touching drama, lingered and watched the scene unfold.

Dreamflight smoothed her daughter's feathers. "Come on, now. I've already spoken to Tika and Caramon of my arrival, but I'm sure you have lots of questions to ask me, just like Loki did. Come up to the Inn with me and I'll answer them as best as I can." As the parent and child departed, the crowd dispersed to spread their gossip. Soon all that remained was Jeremy – standing with stars in his eyes, love in his heart, a faraway expression, and humming the tune to the song he'd heard only moments ago quite off-key.

Crentha leaned forward and eagerly listened to the tale of her heritage while sitting snugly in a large chair, holding warm apple cider, hooked on every word. She did indeed have many questions at the end of the tale; only she had no qualms with asking any of them. After a long serious of exhausting inquisitions Dreamflight was forced to interrupt.

"I'll be going to Panthalas next," she stated. "That's where your older brother is. Will you be joining me?" Crentha had her agreement on her lips. Oh, how she longed to be with her family again!

"Of course I-" She paused. Caramon and Tika were watching her with a wistful look in their faces. They had been so kind and dear to her all this time, treating her as their own, the entire time she'd been in Solace. She badly missed the teasings of her brother, the warm hugs of her father and crooning lullabyes of her mother, but something had roused in her during her stay in this quaint, cheery place. She enjoyed Solace immensely and had begun to wonder if all places were like this. Hadn't Jeremy promised to take her anywhere she wanted? Crentha could raise money by singing while on the road, find somewhere that would accept her as a cleric, and then return to her family as a grown kender.

But saying goodbye is never easy. "Mother… I, um…" But the crestfallen look on Dreamflight's face halted the need for any words. Dreamflight had thought that surely her daughter would want to come. But the shine of youth was evident in her young kenderchild's eyes. The forlorn mother sighed heavily. Takhisis could not keep her form her children, but time could. She turned her gaze to Caramon and Tika.

"You'll watch her for me, won't you?" They both nodded.

Tika leaned forward and placed her hand over Dreamflight's and squeezed it gently. She didn't like how that question had sounded. "You'll be back, though, right? You and Tas?"

Smiling reassuringly, Dreamflight replied, "Of course! I didn't come all this way to be stopped, now did I?" She felt awful for lying, as she had no idea what the future held, but could sense it was going to be something ominous. This was not the time nor place for her doubts, however. She turned and smiled at Crentha. "I'll see you later, sweetie!" Jumping out of the chair and embracing her daughter tightly, she added, "Be good for Uncle Caramon and Aunt Tika."

"I will," mumbled Crentha. "Tell 'Spice that I love him, and give Daddy a hug for me. Loki too, next time you see him." Dreamflight continued to cling to her daughter.

"Yes, of course…" They remained like that for a few heart wrenching moments, neither one wanting to be the one that broke away. Finally, slowly, Dreamflight let go of her daughter with a snuffle and a fresh ache in her heart. Without a word more, she walked off to continue her long and lonely journey that fate had set out for her.

* * *

At the same time, Branchala was speaking in quiet tones with Paladine when he heard terrible laughter rising from the Abyss. "Good gracious, what was that?"

"Obviously my sister has found something highly amusing," Paladine quipped sourly. "My pity to whatever that may be."

Branchala considered this, and wondered what the dark queen was plotting. "Perhaps you could see what it is? It might be useful information." Paladin shook his head and sighed wearily, massaging the bridge of his nose (more of a mortal habit he'd picked up than anything else).

"She is veiled by something much more powerful than my eyes can penetrate."  
Branchala stiffened and hissed quietly, "Chaos!" With a nervous glance all around, he inquired, "He stays by her side at all times? Why doesn't he strike now, while we are scattered and weak?"

Paladine stroked his beard and sat in silent contemplation as he thought, and Branchala nervously hummed to himself until the greater god spoke up again.

"Perhaps he has something bigger in mind than terrorizing his children, or wreaking havoc on 'his' world. Father has not taken an interest in Dream's little creation before, though I know he rankled at its existence. What could he do with it, while even in slumber, she kept a watchful mind's eye upon the place, like a mother who watches her babe even in sleep? However, since her descent as a mortal, he has been far too active. I think there is more at stake here than we perceive. As to what, I am still fitting the pieces together." Laughing sardonically, he also proclaimed, "Or maybe he's just being his unpredictable self. The latter is probably more likely." Branchala sighed again. "Chin up, my friend. All will be well in time. Just have faith."

"What would you have me do with Dreams?" inquired Branchala.

Paladine smiled benevolently and answered, "Protect her of course. Let her finish her quest on Seler to bid her children farewell. Once that is done, have her return home. All of us together surely could break her curse, and if not, then resting in her realm will."

"She won't leave readily without knowing of Tasslehoff's location…"

Paladine rose and began walking away, for there was much yet left to accomplish in so short of time. Over his shoulder, he called out, "Remind her of the powers of her home!"

The bard lord bowed politely and departed back to Seler without a word more.

* * *

Takhisis approached Tas silently as he sat sharpening his knives and daggers. At her approach, despite the silent hush of her footsteps, he looked up. Seeing who it was, he frowned and stood politely. Despite Tas's knew allegiance, he had no love for his queen. He had no love for anything, Takhisis had concluded. The spark of joy had been snuffed out of him, and the intense brown eyes that regarded her so coolly now seemed without interest or curiosity – filled only with boredom and an anticipation. Takhisis brushed aside her thoughts; as far as she was concerned, it was an improvement by far.

"I have a question for you," she crooned, always using her sweetest voice with him. Tas's eyes shift slightly to the left of her, above her shoulder, to look beyond the menacing goddess at the always present amorphous fog of Chaos. Frowning, he looked back to Takhisis.

"What do you want?" he droned, and almost as an afterthought, added, "My queen."  
Takhisis carefully kept her anger in check. "Would you like to kill Branchala? Now?" She leaned closer to him, breathing the words in a sweet and seductive promise.  
Tas thumbed his knife idly. "That's what I'm here for, isn't it?"

She had known this much and expected a sarcastic response for an answer, though it still irritated her. Everything about Tasslehoff Burrfoot irritated her, but Chaos insisted she not try to teach the impudent kender any semblance of order or obedience.

'Kender… They are my creation,' he had said to her. 'There is a reason that, even under all the snares we have caught him in and that he has even set for himself, leaves him as he is now – without love or desire to be under your rule.' At this she had curled her lip and sneered, pointing out that he had given her a pledge of loyalty. 'Oh yes, my daughter.' Chaos laughed at her remarks. 'He has pledged loyalty, but that is all you will get." All you will get… Chaos chuckled darkly behind her now, as though reading Takhisis's thoughts. He probably had been.

"What about your traitorous lover?" the Dark Queen snapped impatiently. "Would you like to take your little knife and slit her throat? Silence the tongue that glibly sung you lullabies of lies all these years?" The idea of the blood of the wretched goddess she loathed so much spilling sent shivers of delight through her.

Tas, having boredly gone back to sharpening, now fumbled and dropped the knife at her sudden statements. He took on a haunted, ragged and miserable look. "I… I…" He licked his lips, mouth parched and throat constricting painfully. "I…" His head throbbed. "I don't know." Memories of his wife flitted in and out of his mind like a ghost.

"Careful Takhisis," Chaos warned, his voice rumbling in a mixture of amusement and stern reprimand. The fog took substance of a man and strode forward to stand before the nervous and fidgeting kender. "Love is a bond that is the hardest to break. It can often withstand any trial, torture, or horror. Have you ever stopped and wondered why you haven't been able to crush Paladine? Why his knights flock to him all the time?" Chaos threw his head back and roared in laughter quite suddenly. Takhisis merely growled.

Abruptly, Chaos ceased and passed his hand over the kender's eyes. Tas calmed and resumed his work, as if nothing had transpired. "It isn't impossible to overcome, however."

Takhisis snarled in frustration. "Is that why your sister still lives? Love?" Chaos began dispersing again.

"I am above all things, including emotion, if I so choose to be. Don't question my motives and designs. They are above you… Focus only on your own devices."  
Takhisis leered at Tas in disgust. "So long as I get what is due to me for all my trouble in aiding you." She removed a small, shining object from a scabbard hanging off her armor. "Kender!" Tas looked back up again and, for once, seemed quite interested at the object Takhisis dropped in his hands. It was a glistening silver dagger, though on the reverse side, it seemed to be made of obsidian. "A gift from Father. Use that on Branchala when you see him."

Tas turned the dagger about lovingly in his hands. "Am I to go now?"

"Yes." Takhisis smiled cruelly. "You know your mission. You've honed yourself." With a flick of her hand, she sent Tas back to Seler. "Kill the Bard God." 


	10. Firstborn Farewell

Branchala, upon his decent back to Seler, was unsure of how much time had passed in the world. His meeting with Paladine had been brief, but that meant nothing in a realm of endless time. And so, he tried to make a good guess as to his coordinates in space and time instead. He supposed that Dreamflight was either near Panthalas or Solace by now, and picked a spot in between. Then he slowly traversed on foot in the direction of Panthalas – stopping in intervals during the day and long into the night so that Dreamflight would have ample opportunity to catch up to him.

Strumming his lute idly, reveling in this brief reprieve of worry and cares, his keen eyes spotted a kender in the distance coming his way. He couldn't distinguish who it was, though, and this roused his suspicions. All the gods had excellent vision. Why couldn't he see the kender's face? Every time he looked it was as if heat from the earth wavered and distorted the vision. Branchala halted and sat down his things under the shade of a low tree. He would lay a type of trap for this mysterious kender. What kender could resist stopping to inspect any sleeping travelers that they may chance upon? It was flawless. He sprawled out amongst his things, conjuring up a hat that he put over his face to hide it, and feigned sleep.

After a wait, the kender did catch up to him. Branchala squinted out of a corner of his hat, but couldn't see the kender at this angle. Even more curiously was that he couldn't reach into the small thing's mind and scan for an identity. Something was wrong, but he couldn't yet reveal his face and settled on being patient and waiting to see more. That is, until he sensed a sudden danger and rolled to the side quickly. A gleaming silver dagger was buried in the ground where his head had been.

"Good gods!" he gasped, jumping up and whirling around to face his attacker. He swore again at what he saw. "Tasslehoff? Good gods!" Tasslehoff didn't even bat an eyelash as he dropped to the ground, rolled, and snatched up the knife again.

Branchala could only gape, amazed and appalled with the fluidity, grace, and speed his former friend possessed. He was also confused and disgusted. "You could have killed me!" Tasslehoff sprung back up to his feet, frowning at the elven bard in such a way as to freeze the god's golden blood cold.

"Yes, I could have. Perhaps this time I won't miss." Branchala had barely enough time to step out of the way to save himself from a killing blow that seemed to have come at him from nowhere, but the dagger bit deeply into his right arm. The wound was small and inconsequential looking, but it was agonizing – it felt both burning hot and freezing cold simultaneously. He clapped a hand over it and eyed the kender, now measuring him up as an opponent. He would need magic to protect him in this fight, for in melee, Tasslehoff would trump him with his sudden superior speed. For now, though, he needed to voice a question. Let the divine fire strike soon after.

"Why are you attacking me? I'm your friend, Tas!"

Tasslehoff growled a sound that didn't match the diminutive figure. "You are no friend of mine. You lie just as glibly as Hiddukel, wife stealer." Branchala narrowly sidestepped another lunge from the enraged kender. The insult stung his heart, but he pushed that aside for now. It was obvious that Tas was not in his right mind, and he wouldn't be so quick to pass judgment.

"What are you talking about? I haven't stolen your wife. Dreamflight is heading for Panthalas right now to see your son. She's worried to death about you; she will not rest until she's confident about where and how all of her family is, including you!"

Tas circled around, looking for the best spot to strike. "Save your honey coated words for someone else. I saw it all in the Abyss, that wretched place." The kender spat in hatred as he spoke the name of his prison. "I allowed myself to be captive to protect everyone, and this is what happens!"

"The Abyss!" Branchala gasped. "Is that where you've been? With Takhisis and her consorts?" He vividly remembered the laughter he'd heard while with Paladine. "That scaly bitch! This has been her plan this whole time! Everything else was a ruse!"

Branchala's moment of epiphany, while accurate, was ill timed and Tas came at him again. Branchala's reflexes were no match this time for the honed and, unknowingly, enchanted adversary. He cried out in pain as the dagger of Chaos tore deeply into his side.

"And so comes an end to the song," Tas sneered. Branchala's eyes widened in horror – the voice that spoke to him was not the kender's own.

"Chaos!" Branchala would not falter and let the tyrant win. He regained his willpower, gathering up his shaken and tattered nerves, though his complexion continued to pale. "Let him go! Free Tasslehoff from your spell!" The dagger cut deeper and the bard god blanched. He knew his breathes were limited and he had not enough to banter with. With numb lips he muttered song lyrics and blew Tasslehoff back. The kender completely disappeared. Surprised and wary, Branchala struggled off his knees and waited tensely. After moments of still silence, the elf turned and stumbled towards Panthalas, clutching his side.

* * *

Branchala's assumptions on the location of Dreamflight were inaccurate. As he was gradually approaching Panthalas, Dreamflight had already arrived at the gates. She had spurred herself to great speed with a sense of urgency. As soldiers do before the breaking of an important battle, Dreamflight felt that there was precious little time left before some monumental occurrence.

In the middle of the night, Dreamflight approached the shut gates of the glittering city. It was, she noted grimly, quickly becoming the landmark of life changing events for her. First her hometown where she grew as a normal mortal – slowly awakening to the knowledge of her true self; then the place that she admitted her love to the man she'd crossed worlds to be with. It was the birthplace of her firstborn son, and now the place she knew she'd have to say goodbye to him – perhaps forever. A lump rose in the distressed kendermaiden's throat. She longed for the simplicity and serenity of life before. The price of goddesshood ran high, and even more so for someone trying to play mortal and much more simultaneously. Had it been worth it?"

"Who goes?" a guard called down from the watchtower. "We've closed!"

Dreamflight scowled and called back, "By the gods you won't turn me away!"

The guards glanced at each other in perplexed manners. A kender had never spoken to them like that before. "Be gone. Come back on the morrow."

Dreamflight knew she had surprised them slightly with her straightforward approach. She'd finish the job in the way she'd learned best how to – a guilt administered by a mother. "Now you look here! Fifteen years ago my husband and I saved this city from the insect army of Takhisis. And this is how you repay us? I'm going to get into that city and see my son if it's the last thing I do, or my name isn't Dreamflight Burrfoot!"

There was a settled hush which was broken only by the quiet whispers of the two guards upon the gate towers. They conferred a moment and one called down, hesitantly, "Did you say Burrfoot?"

Dreamflight heaved a sigh of great exasperated and rolled her eyes. "YES!"

The two guards met once again. Dreamflight stood on her tiptoes, leaning forward so her pointed ears might catch a word or two.

She heard, "Burrfoot… New recruit… Kin… Wake him."

Dreamflight wasn't sure what they were talking about, but she was pleased that at least she'd gotten a reaction. She folded her hands behind her back and rocked on her heels, wings fanning gently, smiling pleasantly at the big iron gates that barred her.

A few moments later, a torch was lit upon the watch tower that the guards were stationed in. Firespice looked down at his mother, peeping over the wall of the observatory. With a grin and a wave, she shouted, "Hey Mom! Mom! Look at me!" Before she could even reply, the excited kender hopped out of the tower, grabbed the ledge, swung around, and slid nimbly to the tower base. The gates opened a crack to allow them admittance, but Dreamflight hadn't noticed. Her breath had caught in her throat in surprise – Firespice was dressed as a guard of Panthalas!

* * *

They sat sitting in a quiet office, Dreamflight nibbling on a sugar cookie they found. She'd expected that when this moment came, it'd be her telling a story. The tables had turned.

"It all began as a misunderstanding," Firespice said, shrugging casually and sipping a warm drink. The non-kender part in Dreamflight's mind whispered, 'jailed'. "The guard was a nice man – a bit frazzled from a long day I suppose. He kept cursing and asking me how I stayed in the chase for so long. I answered him, but he must not have heard me because the exchange repeated itself several times. Eventually he caught on to what I was saying. I told him it was because I'd been abandoned in Panthalas and really had nothing better to do than learn the city inside and out. It was the least I could do, considering that this was my birth town. He didn't seem too interested in that last bit. He was awfully interested in what I had to say about the not-so-nice parts of the city. He got very excited in fact, and gave me a bowl of soup in the jail, then hustled away. Not long after, Jonathan – that's the guard's name- returned with Sergeant Drinnin. They asked me more questions about the not-so-nice places, gave me some candy, and left me for the night." Here he paused to sip his drink. Dreamflight moved over to his seat and squeezed into it with him, gently draping a wing over his shoulder. He smiled and snuggled up to his mother.

"Where was I? Oh yes. When Sergeant returned, he asked more personal questions – where was I from? Why was I here? Where were my parents? He didn't like it when I told him a god had brought me here." Firespice fidgeted and lowered his voice to a whisper. "I had to lie. I said I was on Wanderlust with my parents, and we'd gotten separated." He gave his mother a sheepish grin. "It wasn't _all_ a lie at least. Anyway, Sergeant said he was impressed with my 'prowess at navigating the city'. He said it was an interesting idea to maybe have a kender on the force – that we were inconspicuous, good at finding things, and great at getting out and into tight spots, both literally and figuratively. There was a lot of complaints about the idea, but I was all for it. A long story short, I got the job!" His story concluded, Firespice looked to his mother for approval. Dreamflight hugged him until he couldn't breathe.

"My son is all grown up," she sighed, eyes misting over. "I'm so proud of you, and I'm sure Tas would have been a well." The happy atmosphere waned as Firespice stared sadly at Dreamflight while she told her story.

"What are you going to do now?" he asked at length. "Where will you go? Do you need me? I like it here, but I'd leave if you needed me." Dreamflight stroked his topknot.

"I love you, son," was all she said for a long, long time. After consoling each other, Firespice began to fall asleep. She roused him. "You better go to sleep in your bed. Don't worry about me. My next step is to wait for Branchala to reach me again. From there, we'll just have to wait and see." She kissed his forehead. "I'll be at the Temple if you need me." With a sleepy murmur, Firespice bid his mother goodnight and stumbled off to bed, leaving Dreamflight to slowly walk the streets alone.

A thief in the night, trying to pry open a window, was startled by a sudden voice that cried out in the darkness, "It was worth it!"


	11. Recovery of Branchala

It was a blood red dawn that lit the morning. Firespice shivered, teeth chattering slightly. Spring warmed the air these days, but the mornings were still a bit nippy. After splashing water on his face and blinking away the sleep that lingered, he put on his assigned clothing for work – boring, drab blacks and browns. Apparently they blended in more with the surroundings for that extra stealth necessary, though Firespice felt he could have done his job just fine in normal clothing. After all, his work didn't entail anything he hadn't already been doing since he could walk and talk. Shrugging away the details, he chalked it up to human tendency and joined the rest of the morning squad for breakfast.

Although it was early, the tables were packed tight, the kitchen was full of fretting cooks and milling officers, and the air was thick with small talk and morning rumors. "Do you see that sun? 'Tis a blood red morning, and that means there be war somewhere." Firespice found this tidbit of conversation riveting, and sat down at the table in question to hear more.

"Ah, you've been looking for omens too much lately," a skeptic snorted. "First it was the black cat, then the bird that got hit with that kid's stone. All a sun like that means is that a summer afternoon is waiting for us, and it's about time too." The guard lifted a mug to the window and rising sun. "My thanks, sun god!"

The first guard that had spoke morosely shuffled the food on his plate. "I wouldn't be thanking the gods yet." Here he paused, as though waiting to be struck down. When no hell fire appeared, he nodded, satisfied, and continued. "Somewhere, men are dying."

A third man joined in and slapped the first on the back heartily. "Cheer up! Men die all the time. And when it's not men, it's elves, or dwarves, or something. Just be glad that Panthalas is having a day of peace. Let the rest of the world have its own troubles without heaping it on to us."

At this, Firespice piped up. "We can't afford a war today anyways. My mother is in the city, and I was going to buy her some flowers. Gods know how pricey they get after armies come through trampling the roses." The whole table erupted in laughter, the tension eased and the sun forgotten. Firespice received some teasing, but he didn't mind. It was his unofficial duty, after all, to lighten things up. With a grin, the kender laughed in turn and tossed back his mug of ale. The city militia had been reluctant to have him aboard, but slowly they were beginning to appreciate his light heartedness, if not his light fingers.

"Injured at the gate!" The sentries' voice rang out. "Injured elf at the gate!" A few men left to investigate the matter. Firespice shoved the rest of his bacon in his mouth and ran after them, easily weaving between the legs of his comrades. The group that had left were clustering together at the bottom of the guard tower. A few of them had been sent to keep the civilian away, but the most of them were just whispering and gawking, trying to decide what to do.

"He should be taken to the temple for healing…"

"What if he's a spy?"

"That's a nasty wound. How long has he been traveling with it?"

"I think he's trying to say something!"

At this point, Firespice managed to poke his head into the throng and see an elaborately dressed elf sitting on the ground. His raiments were dirty and torn, and he clutched his side where the material was sticky and brown. The kender's sharp inquisitive eyes noticed that there was a dab of liquid on the elf's fingertips that shone gold, however, and the question as to what it was perched on his tongue tip when the elf gave a ragged gasp and muttered.

"Dre…Dre…" The elf rasped horribly. His haggard look gave his eyes a feverish glint, and his mouth was parched and dry as though having gone a few days without water. Someone was ordered to get him some water, but Firespice paid them no heed – he wouldn't have missed this for the world and luckily someone else was obliged to play fetching boy.

Frustrated, the sick elf slumped back with a sigh, running his dry tongue over his lips and studying the men. For a moment, the fever fled from the blue eyes and they became startlingly clear and wise. There was an aura of majesty around him, and more than one man found himself with his breath caught in his throats. Firespice saw defiance smoldering within him, and anger… Anger that would flay the flesh from whomever the elf's wrath was turned at. Those blue orbs fell on the kender and their light was immediately quenched, replaced with the look of astonishment, eagerness, and the old touch of madness. He lunged at Firespice, grabbing the kender by the tunic. Metal rang as the guards freed their swords from their scabbards, and they would have skewered the elf then and there – if Firespice hadn't lifted his hand to halt them at that moment, having anticipated the move.

"It's okay," he reassured them in a calm and collected voice. In honesty, he had no idea if it was or not. This deranged madman could strangle him and there wouldn't be time for his friends to help. However, with typical kender resolution, he was too curious to be budged now. The elf's grip faltered, but the wide blue depths remained staring fixedly.

"Nephew," he breathed. "No… Co… Cousin…" Firespice gripped the elf's shaking hand in his own tiny ones. Cousin? Where had he seen this man before? He stared hard at the elf, his mind flipping rapidly through the years of memories and faces. Nephew? Sifting through fuzzy, old mental snapshots, the kender tried to place the face with a name. For a long moment he stood there perfectly still, unable to remember. Just as he was beginning to feel an embarrassed shame, a memory struck him like a lightning bolt; as though some force had yanked it out of his head and shoved it back in his face.

"…_And this is your Uncle Branchala…"_

"_Please, call me Bacher. People will think he's crazy if he calls me that."_

"_Very well, Bacher."_

Firespice gasped and hugged the elf. "Uncle Bacher! What happened to you?"

Branchala's voice hissed in pain, smothering his words. Each breath was a chore. "Dre… Dreams…" And with that, his eyes rolled back and he had no more strength.

"Dreams," Firespice breathed. "Of course. Take him to the temple!"

* * *

Clerics were kneeling next to Branchala, trying to close the wound and draw out the poison in his veins. Their touch was gentle and magic blissful, but it was taking an agonizingly long time. In the meanwhile, he'd been placed among soft silk pillows to rest. Firespice was crouched in the corner of the room, watching his mother and the clerics work. As the priests did the hard part, Dreamflight kept a damp rag at hand and was wiping sweat off Branchala's forehead. He sat with his head back, face flushed, sweating, and panting. Luckily, his fever was slowly coming down to tolerable levels.

Dreamflight was quiet the entire time. Since Branchala had been brought in, she was withdrawn and silent save to help give instructions and orders. The other clerics had been confused and disoriented when the guards had nearly burst into the temple, carrying a half-dead elf between them. Dreamflight was a calm and steady strength that they had built their bearings on. As she dabbed his forehead now the elven god's eyes opened and stared at her. Shakily, he brought up a hand and pressed her own to his cheek.

"That's all of the poison, I think," the cleric at his left sighed. "The rest is in the hands of the gods."

"Yes it is," Branchala murmured, and managed a weak laugh. Dreamflight didn't even smile, much to his dismay. She waited until the clerics departed before relaxing her tense vigil. Her breath came out in a long-held sigh; her shoulders slumped and wings drooped until the tips brushed the floor; and her head dropped down. All of her pain and misery was lain bare for anyone to see, and Firespice had to bite his lip to fight the impending and unexplainable tears that any mortal would feel in the presence of such a crushed divine.

Branchala reached out and drew her into his arms until she submitted to his touch, cradled in his arms like a child when, in reality, she probably had more strength in her slender frame than he did at the moment.

"I tried," she cried. "I fought him and now I'm losing. This is it – the last straw. I only hope that I can take back the pain he has caused so many." She drew in a shuddering breath. "Oh, Branchala… What am I going to do? I only wish now that Tas was here to give me strength to face Chaos." And even as she said this, Firespice had scurried across the room to her side and twined his arms around her. Dreamflight rest her head on the chest of her eldest child. His hold was strong, and she was struck with the sudden acute understanding that he was a full grown adult now.

"I'm sure you'll find him, Mother," he whispered. His heart ached with the attempt to fill her with his love and vigor. "Until then, I'm here for you. I promise."

Branchala waited, the three of them finding solace together. After long moments had passed, he gently let Dreamflight back on to her feet. "Dreams, we must return to Godshome and go back to your realm. Your curse will be lifted there and we can begin to plan an attack."

Dreamflight nodded, brushing away her tears. "And maybe then I can find my husband!" Branchala clasped her hands in his.

"Dreams…" And here, for once, he faltered with words. Slowly, he brought her hands to his heart and fought for a phrase. "Tas… He's alive, but he's not well. I saw him." Dreamflight gasped.

"When? Where? What's wrong with him? Take me to him!"

"He is not well in the mind, my dear. Tasslehoff was the one who attacked me."

Dreamflight stared at Branchala numbly and slid her hands from his, backing away until Firespice caught her. "You are lying. I don't like to be lied to." Branchala opened his mouth to protest, but he knew it would be futile. "We'll go back to Godshome and I will prove you wrong."

"Fine," was all he could think to reply with. "So long as we go there at all. We'll leave tonight or now if you're willing to let me take a rest along the way."

Firespice drew himself up to full height in order to gain their attention, which only succeeded in adding an extra centimeter to his frame. "I'm coming too."

There was an odd echo effect as the two gods shouted in unison a resounding, "No!" Firespice crossed his arms to stand his ground and Dreamflight did the same. Branchala couldn't help the fleeting smile that danced over his lips as he took a step back to watch. A kender pair trying to match wills and wits could often be amusing. His mind supplied commentary after each argument.

"I'm your mother, and I said no." It was an old trick.

"I'm an adult now and I say yes." It was an old comeback for an old trick.

"It will be dangerous." That was a mistake to say.

"Even better." See?

"Mortals aren't allowed in Godshome." A valid point.

Firespice smirked and countered in a smug tone, "I'm only _half_-mortal." Touche.

"No good."

"We're talking about my father here!"

Dreamflight's temper broke. The snap was almost audible and was clearly obvious on her face. Her wings flew open and she lorded over Firespice like a giant angry hen. "Don't you understand! This is war! War of the gods, no less! High gods!" She'd practically shrieked the last two words and Firespice retreated from her wrath, undaunted but wary. Dreamflight deflated slightly, her face flushed.

Firespice chose his words carefully, trying to keep a calm and careful tone. It was a new feat for the cheeky child. "I'm not afraid, Mother. I am worried though. Yours and father's lives hang in the balance, and if I lost you two I wouldn't know what to do."

Branchala felt it was time to speak up with some words of wisdom. "You would go on living, Firespice. Whether or not you go isn't going to make a difference in the divine realms. Your bravery is praiseworthy, but you would only be a hindrance. Chaos is heartless and ruthless. He'd kill you to subvert your mother. Say here and keep an eye on your siblings for us. That's the best you can do right now."

Firespice looked helplessly to his mother, but Dreamflight would not be moved. He rushed back to her and hugged fiercely. "What if I do lose you? What if this is the last time I ever see you again?"

Dreamflight remained silent, groping for words to express her love and pride for her prodigy. After a few moments, s he gripped his shoulders and gently pushed him back in order to stare into his eyes. Blue flecked with gold stared back.

"Then t his is goodbye. I came to the world to live a fulfilling mortal life; and, despite the hardships, I succeeded. Keep the Burrfoot name proud, my son. I love you."

He was heartbroken. Dreamflight let go of his shoulders and walked backward towards Branchala, holding her gaze. Firespice held out a hand and grasped at air. Suddenly he felt in over his head; Panthalas wasn't the place for him, and he was too young to be in the guard. He would gather his family and go back home again, and everything would be well in the world once more. But he knew things would never be normal again.

On that thought, Branchala and Dreamflight turned and ran, heading for the gates of the city. Firespice lowered his arm and his hand brushed against his belt pouches limply. There would be no following them – his mother was forever gone.


	12. A Change in Luck

Kender and elf set a grueling pace for themselves as they ran in the night. Branchala still suffered from his wound, despite the ministrations of the healers at the temple. He ran swiftly, but his breathing soon was labored and his face pale and sweating. Dreamflight took to the air, gaining speed high above before swooping down and gliding beside the bard lord.

"We may be rushing to our doom," she murmured. The wind carried her soft spoken words clearly to Branchala, who had to gasp his replies breathlessly.

"Anything is better than waiting here for danger to strike."

Branchala's face quirked into a scowl as Dreamflight moaned softly, "What mother and wife am I to run?" She was startled as Branchala barked a terse reply.

"For all our sake, Dreams, set your mortal self aside for just a moment! Nobody understands why these things are happening! Pull yourself together and help us." She had no reply, or breath to give it, and the two continued their run in silence. After long moments passed, Branchala wheezed lyrics between pants. Dreamflight caught on and sang with him, the two weaving magic to speed their journey. Soon the landscape blurred away and they felt fatigue ease off of their muscles. In a few hours they reached Godshome – a journey that would have taken months. Dreamflight folded her wings and walked down the sides of the crater bowl, Branchala close behind and wary. Everywhere the darkness seemed menacing, and he did not like the looks of the place – darkness crowded too closely to the starpool. Dreamflight stopped abruptly and raised her eyes to the sky.

"Perhaps it is simply because he is evil."

Branchala, startled, stopped walking just short of tripping over her. She couldn't help but smile at his sudden lack of grace, but continued in a serious tone, "I am wrong. He isn't evil, at least, I don't think he is. But we are opposite ends and I tend to think badly of my brother. His actions seem evil to me. I still think he should be stopped though." She paused and turned sad, wide eyes to Branchala, who just regarded her with great weariness. "Will our struggles ever end?" Branchala opened his mouth to reply, but all that issued forth was a strangled gasp; he pulled Dreamflight roughly into his arms, squeezing the breath out of her. A knife twanged as it stuck in the ground, cracks splintering the rock from impact. A thin, quick hand snaked out of seemingly thin air and snatched the gleaming weapon.

"Tasslehoff!" Branchala snarled. "Let us pass. If not me, then at least your wife. Your quarrel is with me, not her!" Despite the firmness of his voice, his arms trembled as he held her closer. Dreamflight felt suffocated pressed against him, breathing through his cloak. She struggled against him and yearned to see her husband.

"Tas!" she cried out. "It's me! Oh by the gods, I've missed you…" Tas stepped out of shadow and stared impassively at them.

"I'm sure you have," he muttered, leering and fingering his knife. It lookd stained. Used. Dreamflight felt the chill of revulsion creep into her blood once she realized who it had been used on. Her eyes flew back to Branchala's, and he avoided her astonished gaze.

"You didn't believe me," he muttered. "But I would not lie to you." As if this was his cue, Tas tilted the knife just enough for Lunitari's light to enhance the red gleam.

"I'm sure you found comfort to ease your lonliness in your lover's arms!" he snarled.

Branchala hardened his glare and released his hold on Dreamflight, who pulled away abruptly. Tas's words rankled in her heart, and the tone of his voice made her shudder and grow weak in the knees. She locked eyes with him and tentatively probed at their soul bind. If he was being enchanted, she would know.

To her surprise, she found that he was. Even more surprising, however, was the weakness of the spell – any mage could duplicate it and Tas's will was strong enough to overthrow it. She felt no resistance, though. It was as if Tas wanted to be led by the whims of a mage or worse and would comply with whatever suggestion was posed. Not only that, but the hurt and resentment that rolled off of him were truly his feelings. She recoiled from him, spiritually and physically, as though he'd slapped her. In the background, Branchala was shouting at her, but she couldn't hear his words.

"What happened to you?" she whispered to Tas. The cold, emotionless kender smiled at her in a macabre of his old self.

The voice that spoke was his own, yet not. It was two voices made one. "You did, you wayward goddess; meddling in forces even you had no right to tamper with. You will be punished for your folly." The knife struck at her, quick as a flash. The blade whistled in front of her and left a bleeding gash on her brow. Hot blood trickled into her eyes and she stumbled back, shocked and temporarily blinded. The knife gleamed and whirled back to make a second pass at her, but met with resistance as another blade jarred against it and halted is path; Branchala had summoned his rapier and thrust it between the two kender. It glittered metallic blue, shining in contrast to the knife of chaos that, when put next to this shining blade, seemed to absorb light. The combatants pulled apart, moved away from Dreamflight, and engaged again in a flurry of blows and feints. Tas was still fast and Branchala weak, but the bard god was no longer hindered by surprise and anticipated when to parry. His blood was pumping hotly with frustration and anger. As Tas's attacks began striking more fiercely, Branchala's tactics shifted from defensive to aggressive offensive, but the two duelists couldn't land a blow stronger than a slight cut here and there.

Dreamflight wiped the blood out of her eyes and shouted, "Don't hurt him!" Whoever she was referring to, she did not deign to make clear. "Please, Tas, I love you!" Neither man paid her attention, so locked in their deadly dance as they were. She felt anger boil up in her, surge through her, and demand that she use her magic to end all of this. She shook her head to clear the thoughts and instead ran into the fray, snatching at Tas's wrist and holding him back. Branchala retreated, not wanting to accidentally strike Dreamflight, and watched helplessly. The kender grappled dangerously for the knife, but Tas was taller and held it just out of her reach. It dangled above their heads precariously, ominously.

"Release me," Tas growled through clenched teeth. Dreamflight held her ground. "Release me!"

Dreamflight narrowed her eyes and spoke in a low murmur. "Chaos, YOU release him. Let go this grip you have over my husband." Tas laughed. It was a horrible, blank, empty laugh – the laugh of chaos, of destruction. Dreamflight waited for the witty retort.

Tas just grinned again and muttered, "What hold?" In a surge of strength the normal kender could have never achieved, the knife came down and plunged into her. Branchala pushed aside Dreamflight, but it wasn't enough to save her from the blow – just enough to keep it from being a mortal strike. Blood welled up from where the weapon lodged under a bone, grating against it and prolonging the pain. She let go and stumbled back, then grasped the hilt and yanked the weapon out.

"Enough of this," Branchala growled as Tas stepped out of their path to the star pool. "You win this time, but the war is yet ours." The bard god snatched Dreamflight into his arms and dashed into the starry portal. Tas crossed his arms and watched as the two disappeared back to their heavenly realms.

"War is good, bard. War is the playground of Chaos…"

Dreams opened her eyes and looked around her sphere, her realm. She did not feel the pain in her body diminish, as it normally would, and blood continued to flow steadily from the wound, the drops now a clear gold instead of the mortal red.

"Chaos's knife has wounded you deeply," Branchala noted. He carried the goddess to the edge of a sparkling pool of water and set her down. She stared morosely at the swirling walls that marked the end of all dreamscapes and the start of her domain. "You'll need to heal yourself, rest, and regain strength. I'll speak with the other gods on what has happened and we will be ready to march to war." Dreams remained silent. "I know you are hurt inside as well, my Dreams, but you must consider the well being of all the gods. Your love life comes in second. The balance of the cosmos is teetering dangerously."

Dreams slid her gaze to him and stared piercingly. "Very well. Amass an army of gods, but whether or not war is declared is a matter that I will settle on my own." Branchala set his hand on her shoulder, letting a lock of her hair glide between his thumb and forefinger like silk.

"Don't give in to him," he said encouragingly. "Things are always darkest before dawn."

Dreams turned her back to him. "Dawn will shine on others before its rays touch me." She waved her hand in dismissal, and, reluctantly, he disappeared to see to the other gods of the pantheon. After he had left, she leaned over her pool and gazed into its clear depths, watching impassively as clear water swirled into chaotic colors and then back to a calm surface again. The turbulence would have disturbed her at another time – Branchala was correct in saying that there was a major imbalance. If she wasn't careful, Seler would go up in flaming destruction, followed by Krynn, and then who knew what else?

With eyes shut determinedly, Dreams made her decision. "My world may be shattered, but I will protect Seler with my dying breath."

* * *

Tas idly tossed his knife up in the air and caught it again. "They got away."

"Worthless!" Takhisis snarled at him. "Piece of offal! Why do we even keep you around when you can't even accomplish one assigned task!" The Abyss flared hotly with her temper, sending shadows scattering. Behind her were their divine allies, both neutral and evil. Those who were not accustomed to Takhisis's fits flinched and sweated nervously.

An amorphous black shadow cloud shifted slightly at Takhisis's side warningly. "Takhisis…"

Tas was not in the least bit impressed or intimidated. He caught his knife again, smiled, and inspected his nails calmly. "I think it's because in the last two days I've accomplished more than you ever did, Tacky." The Abyss turned into an inferno at that flippant remark. The enraged goddess lunged for Tasslehoff, but Chaos wrapped his tendrils tightly around her, preventing her from touching a single hair on his head.

"Release me!" she howled. "I'll shred him to pieces!" The other gods drew back apprehensively, not liking the situation at all. Chaos flung Takhisis to the side like a broken doll, where she lay snarling and spitting in rage.

The clouds took man form and Chaos strode to Tas's side. "You are far too rough on your toys, daughter. It is no wonder that they've broken so easily in the past." Tas frowned, but opted not to speak. He didn't appreciate being called a toy, but he would deal with these gods after his revenge was fulfilled. "Now, Tasslehoff, not all hope is lost. I could send you to Branchala right now…" Tas perked up eagerly. "…But he is meeting with many other gods at the moment. No need to foolishly throw away your life taking on the whole Pantheon of Light. Your wife, however, is quite alone and injured. She will be easy to finish."

Tas felt a pang of guilt throb beneath his hate. He hadn't really wanted to get Dreamflight involved, but at the time of confrontation Tas felt the prodding and urging of Chaos to do her bodily harm. In the midst of his fury, he'd given in. But somewhere in him his soul cried out in protest. As Tas studied Chaos's face for sign of whether or no this was a request or order, he wondered if it was really his soul or Dreamflight's bonded soul that had quailed at his actions. Either way, it hadn't been a pleasant experience. The whole thing was confusing, and gave him a headache. Looking at Chaos didn't help, because he had the vague impression hat he'd seen this form of his before. It was human, but reminded him strikingly of Dalamar…

Chaos spoke again before Tas could ponder any more. "I will send you there now." The god turned his back to everyone and lifted his arms. He had to speak but a word, and a thundering crack resounded and shook the Abyss to its foundations. Tas felt his teeth rattle and his head buzz a moment as he staggered. When he lifted his head, his eyes widened in awe; Chaos had opened a multicolored chasm in the air. The edges of the portal looked like bleeding colors of wet pain, sending strands of color reaching into the gray, colorless Abyss and gently illuminating the corners. If Tas had hought that was beautiful, he lost his breath on what lay beyond.

It is hard to describe the Realm of Dreams. It is an ever shifting place, and many speculate that the beholder sees only what they want. Tas did not have anyone to cross reference what lay before his eyes, and so he could only guess that it was reality. He saw a land of cloud and a sky of shimmering rainbow. The clouds sparkled as though diamondust had been scattered throughout their pillowy depths. In the distance were mirages – dreamscapes conjured by others – shimmering and dancing on the air invitingly.

"Go." Chaos's command rumbled through his head, marring the clarity that had been there a fleeting moment. Tas sighed heavily and resisted an instant, but his consciousness was pressed into a smothering corner by the black velvet weight in his mind. Chagrined, he entered the Realm of Dreams and the portal slammed shut behind him. He looked around again and saw that Chaos had delivered him right to Dreams. She sat by the far end of a pool's edge with her back to Tas. The wounds she'd received had been healed and her curse broken. Power rolled from her in waves and shook the fearless kender's courage. As he crouched silently and tried to get a grip on hi nerve again, he heard Dreams murmuring to herself.

"Perhaps I could save everyone a lot of trouble if I could set things right earlier back." She paused and ruffled her feathers suddenly. "Yes, I could go back in time and fix this. Not very far back, just a little jump." Tas advanced slowly and silently, tensed for when he might have to spring away, but Dreams was concentrating on gathering the energy and focus necessary for time travel. Tas grinned – this was too easy! He could feel the thrill of Chaos's approval bubble in him. The sensation made him giddy and overconfident, and he had to glasp a hand over his mouth to repress a giggle. Feeling bolder, Tas abandoned all stealth and lunged. Dreams sensed the approaching danger and paused, glancing behind over her shoulder. She had enough time to raise an arm in shielding… But Tas misjudged the distance in his rush and fell into the pool of clear water, which exploded into colors as he touched the surface and sank into its depths.

Tas become overwhelmed with sensations – love, hate, joy, sorrow, pain, pleasure. His mind and body were filled with them all. Chaos's touch washed off of him like so much grim in a bath. Memories flashed past too fast to concentrate on. He heard voice, thousands of voices not yet come into existence, throb in his head in a discordant chorus.

"This is what the essence of life is," he realized. His mind, behind the turmoil and chaos assaulting it, was surprisingly clear and wise. His spirit buoyed and soared on the sea of essence, unchained from his vengeful obsessions just prior before. Although Tas felt as though he was going to be ripped apart from the abundance of life coursing in him, he would have laughed in relief if he were able, grateful that for once he wasn't weighted heavily with his own guilt and anger. He felt a lifting sensation of his body and waited expectantly for the afterlife, having assumed he must of exploded from life. It never came, of course. Instead, he felt the extra essence ebb out of him, slowly like a tide going out. The amount of sounds, feelings, and sights lowered to tolerable level and became his own again, and he began to analyze the memories that played in his head – shown from the view of a third person.

"Tasslehoff…"

He mentally frowned at himself. Things had been going smoothly until that trip to the Abyss. Nasty boring place – he hated it terribly. Why had he been there so long? His mind fuzzily threw up memories of his pledge to Takhisis, the pain, anger, hurt, and shame he felt. The memories felt wrong and out of place in his head, as though they weren't his own and someone was impostering his body.

"Tas!"

That can't be me, can it? I was hurt, alone, and… Yes, frightened. But I don't remember doing these acts… Tas was sure he must have been having an out of body experience or something and his body had been doing bad things while he was out. He wouldn't hurt his wife and friend! Someone had been using his body as a puppet. Right?

"Please, open your eyes…"

Tas did as the heavenly voice commanded and opened his eyes a crack. Dreams had pulled him out of the water and now cradled his head on her lap. She bent over him and stared with surprised, concerned eyes, Tas blinked against the light and cringed.

"Did I do all that?"

Dreams was puzzled. "Tas?"

"Did I hurt you?" He was beginning to feel it was true and snuffled softly. "I'm sorry… I don't think I did, but if so…" Dreams hugged him and held him close, crushing the breath out of him a moment. Glistening, crystalline tears fell from her eyes in joy and Tas began to blubber and snuffle more. Vaguely, he wish he had a hankerchief somewhere in his pouches because it was probably bad manners to sniffle on a goddess's dress. As though reading his thoughts, Dreams smiled and brushed away his tears with her fingertips.

"I have my husband back," she crooned. "My old Tasslehoff." After a while, Tas's crying ceased and he felt better.

"Tika is right," Tas murmured. "A good cry does wonders." Dreams smiled again and helped him to his feet just as another portal opened in her realm. Branchala walked through the swirling opening, face set in deep thought at whatever news he carried. He glanced at Tas in a moment of bewilderment before quickly drawing his rapier and advancing. Dreamflight spoke a word harshly and a bolt of lightning materialized and shtruck the ground at his feet. Branchala ceased his charged and looked puzzled again.

"It's nice to have someone protecting me against angry gods for once," Tas said solemnly. Dreams touched his cheek lovingly. "Tas, go play in the dreamscapes a bit." Tas perked up at the prospect, gave a shout of glee, and ran off into the nearest swirling wall of color. Dreams grinned and walked to Branchala.

"He seems normal!" Branchala exclaimed, amazed. "What happened?"

Dreams motioned to the pool of water, clear once again. "He fell in." Branchala's eyes widened and a gasp escaped his lips. "That's never happened before, I know. I think he was starting to absorb my essence because I was getting a drain. There was a burst of light and color in the pool that began to disperse and bubble. I pulled him out, and he's been normal since."

Branchala regarded her with quiet astonishment. "The colors in the water-"

"So what news did you come to bring me?" Dreams interrupted, having not heard his mumbling. Branchala frowned and opened his mouth to reprimand her, but then remembered his place and gave his report.

"The Pantheon of Darkness seems willing to… Negotiate. We all think that it's a trap to catch us in an ambush between them and Chaos, and so we're all a bit wary with the idea of going in there. Chaos must be lying low, though, because there are no apparent signs of his whereabouts, though Mishakel feels strongly that he's still in the Abyss. Where else do you hide a rampant high god?"

"Anywhere," Dreams replied wryly. Branchala sighed assent. "If you're worried about an ambush, let me go in there first. They're not all going to attack me. And if Chaos is indeed there, well… Then it will hasten our inevitable meeting."

Branchala crossed his arms, displeased with her decision. "And if it comes to blows?" Dreams just smiled, and that put the bard god even more ill at ease. "Dreams, don't do anything stupid."

"Me?" she scoffed. "Branchala, I'm hurt. And you forget your place." She was only teasing, though true. Gentler, she added, "I am capable of protecting everyone if I wanted to. I only request that you guard Tas."

Branchala reeled. "You're taking him with you?" He shook Dreams lightly. "Are you TRYING to get yourself killed? Chaos will crush him! And if he doesn't, one of the other gods will." She stared hard at him, until his resistance wavered and gave. "A-alright… I'll guard him." Dreams smiled.

"Thank you, my dearest friend," she murmured, running her fingertips across his cheek. They shared a warm smile a moment, and then Dreams turned and faced the whirling dreamscapes. "Tasslehoff! Come here a moment!" Tas's head poked out from the colorful swirling wall. He pouted a brief moment, but obeyed and scurried over, holding an ice cream cone. Dreams smiled, amused. "Where did you get that?"

"I found it," he proclaimed with a grin. Dreams just shook her head and grinned.

"We are leaving now, to the Abyss." Tas's cheerful expression fell and a haunted look came into his eyes.

"Please don't," he squeaked pitifully. "Please don't go to that awful place." Dreams's shape altered, and she began to grow taller and more impressive. Her energy crackled around her in an impressive display of her strength.

"Don't worry, Tas," she assured him as he watched open-mouthed at her transformation. Her voice began to resonate and echo. "We're going to go and settle this, once and for all."


	13. Rapture

In the Abyss, a multi-hued portal opened with a loud crackling noise. The gods of evil and their neutral allies all lifted their heads simultaneously. The neutral gods glanced at each other nervously, looking to each other for reassurance of their decision. Perhaps this hadn't had been such a good idea… But when they looked to their evil brethren, they saw only calm reassurance. Chaos flitted overhead, a wraith of shadow and emptiness, and brought a sense of security to those under his veil. He spoke to his evil children words of encouragement. "I am the darkness that will eclipse the light of creation." The evil gods all smiled and nodded to each other, prepared to face what was coming. To his undecided neutral children, Chaos said, "And then I will slumber eternally, leaving you all to your own devices." The morale considerably lifted, all eyes watched the portal anxiously.

For long moments, nothing stirred. Then, somewhere in the distance on the other side of the portal, a trumpet blared out a tune of war – most likely Branchala helping the spirits of the gods of good. But instead of a rush of angry gods, all those in the Abyss held their breath as a blinding body of light walked into their midst, illuminating every inch of the gloom. Wincing and shielding their eyes, they waited for the light to die down. Chaos retreated somewhere, no longer seen but still his presence felt. When the light faded, the immortal and quite angry form of Dreams stood before all.

No longer the whimsical kender that Dreamflight was, Dreams was an embodiment of shifting colors; creation incarnate. Wings, that spread an amazing distance when opened up, flared for a moment, dazzling the stunned gods even more. When she lowered them, behind her was the gods of light, waiting, smirking and confident in their champion. Dreams's form finally settled, deciding on a twenty foot tall human shape. Her hair continued to flow behind her as though blown by an unseen wind and her wings sparkled radiantly. Her eyes, no longer holding an iris or pupil but simply pure gold, looked out upon it all.

"Brother."

Her quietly spoken world sent a tremor through the Abyss. Shadows appeared from seemingly nowhere, coalescing until Chaos too stood at the height of his sister in a roughly man shape. Creation and emptiness stared hard at each other.

Chaos was the first to speak, "I knew you would come home, my dear, dear sister." He turned his back to her, a dangerous and bold move, and addressed his kin. "Please, all of you, be seated. I believe they have come here to talk to us." Amusement toyed in his words. "I suppose we should humor them?"

Paladine now spoke up, standing behind Dreams's right shoulder. "No, Father. We have not come here to talk. We've come to put an end to this fight using whatever means possible." The gods of good and the few neutral allies that they had nodded together.

Tall and proud, standing behind Dreams's left shoulder, Mishakel intoned, "Dreams has agreed to represent us all just as you have taken it upon yourself to represent all of evil."

Chaos nodded, and the action itself seemed condescending. "Then I still request that you all be seated." Hesitant, but not finding this worthy of argument, all of the gods formed a circle around the two higher deities and waited.

Standing next to Hibbakuk and Solinari, Branchala glanced down at a crease in his robes. Tasslehoff still sat where he had been instructed too, having been shrunk a little in order to be so well concealed and undetected riding on the shoulder of the god. He watched everything with wide eyes and made no sound, too awed to find the proper words to speak.

Paladine turned his head slightly and glanced at Takhisis, who stood at his other side now. "Do you think that they will do battle?"

The dark goddess smiled cruelly. "Oh I certainly hope so."

Paladin's brow furrowed. "If they do, then they may certainly destroy each other and all of us." Takhisis shook her head, black tendrils of hair falling onto her face in a deadly beautiful manner.

"No, they will not destroy us. Soft hearted Dreams would not allow it. But destroy each other? That is what I am hoping for. You see, brother, I have been playing our Father this whole time. This is my goal – to eradicate the two beings that our only real threat. Then we can live in freedom. Life was so much simpler before they came into the picture."

Paladine regarded his sister in silence for long moments before replying quietly, "You are a greater fool than I expected if you think that you can control Chaos. He is your puppet and now all of existence hangs in the balance of this confrontation. Let us hope that whatever plans you have fail miserably."

Before she could retort, Dreams spoke up again. "Tell me, brother, must we fight?" Chaos made no move to answer that. "Very well, do not speak. I can read the answer in your heart. You are correct in saying that we are opposites, but I think you carry this ideal too strongly. The Balance only made us opposites so that we may ensure neither of us try anything so ludicrous as to abuse our powers. We do not have to be sole opposites in love, in thought."

Chaos now spoke, "But we do. And we must be equal too. Equal love, equal power, equal pain. When you bleed, my sister, I bleed with you."

Dreams narrowed her eyes and hissed, "Is this what all this is about? Do you simply want to cause me pain and suffering? Is that it?"

"No."

There was a ripple of surprise from all.

"Then what is it?"

Chaos smiled. "You broke the rule – the high gods must not meddle in the affairs of the mortals. Now you will be punished." Gasps erupted from the crowd of gods. Branchala wisely shot Tas a glance just before he had a chance to cry out in dismay.

"This is my fault," the guilt stricken kender hissed.

Branchala's eyes softened, and he whispered quietly, "Let Dreams sort this out herself. She is wise and strong." One of the dark gods, Hiddukel, tried to get a closer look at why Branchala was speaking into his shoulder, but the bard god shifted and looked straight ahead with a stoic expression that the god of lies could not read. Hiddukel sighed deeply, somewhat bored. It wasn't that the tension from the two high gods was unexciting; it was that battlefields were no place for him. He had much more enjoyed all the intrigue of the gods wondering what the next move would be; there was more room for trickery and spying. Here, there was only probably going to be brute strength. Itching for something more his style, he leaned over to the dark god standing at his left, Morgion. One glance at the disturbing deity made him lean to his right instead, towards Chemosh, who at least was a little more interesting to talk to.

"Wanna make a bet?" the god whispered with a coy smile on his face. Chemosh regarded him with a look of disgust, though there was the slightest hint of interest under the expression. Hiddukel pressed his chance. "I bet a quarter of my fortune that Dreams will manage to get by without punishment."

"You speak blasphemously," the death god muttered. This was true. It was hardly respectful to make bets on the outcome of two beings far stronger than they. At the same time, Chaos was the supposed champion of the dark deities, and perhaps Chemosh only referred to Hiddukel placing his money on the outcome of the rival goddess. Hiddukel smiled and wrapped his mind around the double meaning while Chemosh considered the proposal. After a few brief moments, the other god whispered back, "Deal."

Back to Chaos and Dreams, where the mounting anger was about to rupture, Dreams spoke first. "That is fair enough, though you must recall we agreed that any god who was to be punished holds the right to defend themselves if they'd rather risk death over atonement."

Chaos smiled, nodding, his voice trickling with hints of amusement, "Of course." Dreams glared, feeling that her brother was being a little too calm and condescending about the whole matter. He obviously was anticipating something… So be it. So was she. There was another pause.

Dreams grew impatient, suddenly feeling childish for being put on trial. "Well? What is it?"

Chaos brought his fingers together in an arch and his cynical smile grew. "Why… The logical thing of course. Anything that was the cause of your intrusion on the material plane must be eradicated. Your consort and your children will be destroyed."

Before the last syllable escaped Chaos's lips, Dreams lit up in righteous fury and shouted her defiance. "**NEVER!**" The Abyss shook, cracks forming in the walls and shaking the plane to its core. Alternate planes felt the ripples from the explosion of pure fury, like aftershocks of an earthquake. The divine force of the universe was severely pissed off.

The gods were on each other in a flash. Chaos had expected Dreams to fight for her family, and Dreams had expected Chaos to force her into a battle. To what cause, she would not know. The stakes were high – although equally matched, if one were to die, it would cause a breach in the matter of reality for this universe, one that could only be filled with the essence of the other, living god. Perhaps Chaos simply was living up to his name for the battle would only bear mayhem and madness.

Dreams did not care. She was a mother fighting for her family. The deadly dance of the two gods began.

Lightning struck from nowhere, hitting Dreams in the palm where a shining white sword materalized. She gave it an experimental swing – it swung through all matter like a ghost blade, leaving it untouched and unharmed. But this was Matter, the sword of creation. Rather than rend things in a fit of destruction, it tore apart things where there was nothing. Chaos obliged her with a test subject, sending one of his fiery fiends at her. Forged of nothingness, a hole in creation, Dreams brought Matter down viciously on the beast, where it was cleaved cleanly into two before dissolving completely into air.

Chaos nodded approvingly. He wanted his sister primed and ready when the fight would heat up, so he could savor each moment of the anarchy. Reaching into himself, into the gulf where all things were lost, he pulled forth his own sister sword, Void. The sword was more of a sword shaped hole in the fabric of reality. Everything it touched disappeared into its inky black depths. The chamber the gods all stood on whined gratingly as the sword sucked on the air, creating a high pitched whistle noise that could change tone and tune as Chaos moved it. The result was a discordant song that made Branchala wish to flay the skin off himself and the other gods to flee in terror or rend themselves deaf.

Dreams noticing the tactic to drive the others way countered, imbuing her sword with a counteracting humming that caused an odd, eerie and chilling melody between the two weapons. The two gods regarded each other once more before lunging and clashing their weapons. Sparks flew into the air and hung like stars in the darkness.

"It's beautiful," Tas whispered, awed. "It's just like the night sky, but much more vivid." Branchala nodded, but his was a look of apprehension.

"They say that the two creators of the worlds had battled once before to determine their place on the hierarchy of pantheons. The result of their blows shattered worlds and other deities, leaving their remains to float as stars in the night sky for all eternity."

Tas's already wide eyes managed to get a little wider. "Is that true!"

Branchala's voice gained a tremor. "For all that is good and right, I hope not." As though sharing the bard's thoughts, all the deities began stepping back to give Chaos and Dreams more room for their battle, enacting their own divine defenses in case some stray attack managed to find its way to them.

The combatants in question seemed to hardly notice that there was even a world around them. Each had to concentrate perfectly on the other in order to get their parries and blocks in time. Soon the clashes had sped up and it no longer resembled a mortal battle but more as some macabre of a waltz; they spun about, grappling on each other's arms as their swords pressed together and created a deadly barrier between the two. Dreams gave a little and Chaos pressed in to take whatever extra inch he could, only to be shoved back with renewed vigor. So the game of take and give continued, each one seeming just on the verge of some gained ground only to lose it again.

"This is pointless," Dreams spat at her twin, bringing her knee up to catch the deity in the gut while she thrust high at his neck. Chaos swung Void down low, using the flat of the blade to form a barrier between the two while his hand snapped up and slapped Matter away. Each took a cut, each suffered a little more.

"Is it?" Chaos laughed. "Then why are we battling?"

Dreams grit her teeth and retreated a few steps to catch her breath. "You said it was to punish me for my breaking one of the high god rules. I'm sure it is, and a million other things at once. If I were to try and figure out your true motive, I would stand here all day and never get it. I think we battle for several reasons. Care to indulge which one you are favoring the most?"

Chaos followed her retreat and angled his sword to strike at her ribcage in a fast and furious thrust. "It is punishment. But I also want to see if your experience has changed you at all. Are you any better, any stronger, for having lived as a mortal? Or are you weaker? If that is the case, there will be a victor."

Dreams ducked low, Chaos's sword shrieking as it passed over her head harmlessly. "There can be no winner, brother. You've set it up so everyone loses, hateful, spiteful man." She met him in a charge at the same time he did, and once again the two gods found themselves face to face from each other, merely inches apart.

Chaos tilted his mouth closer to her ear and whispered, "Prove me wrong then." Dreams growled, then roared angrily as she jumped back and banished Matter, Chaos likewise sending away Void. The two stood a few moments, panting, glaring and wondering what to do next.

Tas dared to hope. "Are they going to stop fighting?"

Branchala muttered, "Not a chance in the Abyss." Tas didn't think it would be wise to point out the inconsistency of this statement at the moment.

Chaos made the next move. He flattened his hand and brought it cleaning through the air in front of him, opening up a rift that his fiends and dragons could crawl through – monstrous creations with the strength of gods from various other planes and worlds. The creatures came from places that even the other gods hadn't even heard of. But Dreams knew these creatures as intimately as if she had been the one who breathed the spark of life into them. She spread her hands forward and let the energy of creation flow out as she conjured beautiful and magical creatures of her own – unicorns, pegasii, dragons, archons, angels, and more. Her army clashed against Chaos's and a second war erupted. Tas watched with wonder as a silvery angel sliced a magma drake in half, then with dismay as it was in turn sucked dry by a vampiric fiend.

He overheard Mishakel whisper to Paladine, "I thought that all high gods were neutral. They would have to be." Paladine merely shrugged.

"No one ever said that the gods didn't play favorites…"

The little monsters and creations ran about, slaughtering each other fairly equally, sometimes getting out of hand and running towards one of the gods, where they would invariably hit the protective barrier that all the deities had enacted and soon be slain by something else. While the sea of undulating violence continued to roll, Chaos had shut his eyes and seemed to be concentrating on something. Dreams looked into herself, figured out what he would be doing, and worked on a counter attack accordingly. When the two had reached the high point of their pent up energy, Chaos crackled with power and sent a beam of his own essence at Dreams. The void sped at Dreams, seemed as though it would be an imminent impact. Had he finally caught her off guard? Tas couldn't take it.

"Look out!"

Dreams was just about to use her counter, to create a portal that would send the attack harmlessly into her pool on her own plane, when the voice caused her concentration to slip for only a very, very brief instant.

And to the God of Nothing, that was all he needed. The attack impacted and there was a sudden stillness all around, for the gods now held their breath and even the created armies were pausing. The silence was deafening, but it became positively unbearable after the sound of Dreams falling to the ground with a thud that echoed demise.

Tas couldn't even find the voice to scream, and all the gods now were hushed out of shock. They fully expected the world to fall down upon their heads and the stench of terror filled the room. Chaos breathed in, savoring it, laughing heartily and breaking the stillness. It was more than the poor kender could bear. In that moment, his will swung precariously on the thin line between broken and bolstered. The hero drew his knife and slid down Branchala's form, touching to the ground lightly and racing to his fallen goddess wife.

"Tasslehoff!" Branchala gasped, taking a step forward and meaning to grab the vulnerable mortal before something hurt him. However all the creatures that had sprung from Dreams and Chaos had vanished when she fell, and the only one in the whole of the Abyss who would challenge him was Chaos.

Tasslehoff spun around and looked at Branchala, at all the gods, with a fire in his eyes that smoldered on the edge of madness and insatiable rage. Branchala, who could have killed the kender ten times over on the spot if he willed it, stepped back nervously. Tas nodded, gripping his knife tighter. "By the goddess, _my_ goddess, I wounded Chaos before and I will do it again before he touches my wife again."

Chaos walked to Dreams, knelt and inspected her for life. He found, to his amazement, that she still lived but that she'd been grievously wounded. The god touched Dreams's cheek. "You refused to let me kill them, my sister. These mortals… They are nothing. They are dirt and clay made to breathe and walk. It is gravel beneath your feet. But you would die - sacrifice _everything_ - to save them." His tender touch moved to her neck and he began to slide his fingers around his neck, slowly and almost sensually, for the final squeeze. "Alas, for your folly, and foolish love."

Before he could close his fist and crush the remaining life from her, though, Chaos felt the slightest of pricks on his heel. It was barely enough to sting, but the god did pause and turn around. When he saw the kender, that impertinent ant, he snarled and removed his hand to flatten the kender once and for all, this time having no goddess who would save his soul. His focus shifted for only a very, very brief instant, and it was all the Goddess of Creation required. Her eyes opened and her strength flooded back to her, sped by her own natural recovery abilities. Her hand snapped out and grabbed his fist before it could bear down upon Tas and she gripped his neck now tightly, squeezing and bringing the god to his knees.

"Alas, brother," she growled. "For your lack of mercy and for my own abundance of it." She threw Chaos to the ground at her feet and stood over him, towering, and seemingly gloating in her supremacy. "We are equals. We both could have taken each other's lives." She leaned down and smirked into his face, now twisted and contorted openly with hatred. She hissed at him. "But the difference between us is that I simply chose not to."

Chaos knew this, hated it, but accepted it. "I will not kill your family…" There were loud cheers from all the gods, even the evil ones. Hiddukel was most pleased as he was about to inform Chemosh of the sum now owed to him. "However…"

The word hung in the air and all was quiet again. "You will be punished."

Dreams frowned, a sour look of distaste, but she knew when to give. Her battle had been fault and although the punishment may be a bitter one, it was indeed deserved. She had broken one of the rules. It was time to face the consequences now, the fair ones. "I relent."

Chaos nodded and got up so he may look his sister in the eye. "You insisted on going forth and finding love, procreating. It was a driving obsession with you. Well, so shall it be with your daughter, and her daughter, so forth and so on, until all of your goddess blood has been bred out of the line. Furthermore, they will all taste a little of my power, of my displeasure, so that each may know that they came from a disgraced, unsanctioned union."

Dreams bit back a reply she had in mind, but Tas was more than happy to snap at Chaos. "Unsanctioned, maybe, but never disgraceful. We love each other and nothing but good can come from that."

"The punishment still stands!" Chaos thundered and then, as though gathering together what was left of his shredded dignity, added, "I will never forget this, Dreams." Then, quietly, "It was a lesson that perhaps I deserved as well. I have put you through much strife over a small infraction… Allow me to make up for it."

Dreams was surprised. "I thought you hated me." Chaos smiled faintly, weakly.

"Maybe I do. But all siblings do. I can also love." He frowned suddenly and turned a malevolent look upon Tas. "I still do not sanction you remaining a consort to a mortal. You will not go back to that plane and you may not take a mundane kender with you to your realm!" Dreams opened her mouth to protest – as did many of the other gods who by now were getting wrapped up in the drama – when Chaos's hand shot out and closed around Tas. But in that instant, he granted Tas knowledge of things that only the divine should know, and then the power to understand and accept those things. Chaos gave Tas divinity. When he removed his hand, Tas had a look of stupor, but peace upon his face.

Smugly, Chaos rumbled, "So I present to you a god husband." Dreams almost fainted, as did Tas, but both got their bearings together long enough to give an elated cry of joy. The other gods were shocked.

Takhisis was outraged. "Wh-what…" She could barely spit out the words, starting to go into a frenzied fit of indignant and confused rage. Chaos laughed loudly, harshly, and opened a portal back to his own plane, hurrying through and leaving the confused anarchy in his wake.

Tas was still trying to absorb the knowledge of the cosmos. Dreams changed form, smaller, to the size of a normal human and hugged him close. "The crazy bastard. He'll do anything to keep everyone in a fit of confusion." Tears of joy streamed down her face as she spoke though and she wept openly with relief that her nightmare was over. Tas finally finished his pondering and looked to the face of his wife.

"Now what?" he asked quietly.

Dreams pondered that. Now what indeed? Their children had said their goodbyes long ago, knowing that they would not see their parents ever again. They would be busy forging their own new lives now. There was surprisingly minimal damage from the confrontation – nothing the other gods couldn't sort out themselves. Soon the three pantheons of good, neutral, and evil would go their separate ways. Things would shift back to a sense of normalcy, plus one new god. Dreams looked hard into the face of her husband, still amazed that he and she were alive and able to appreciate a long eternity together now.

She smiled. "It's over now, Tas. _Let's go home."_


End file.
